I visited your town one last time. It felt like a ghost town, eerily quiet. I don’t remember the scent of your perfume, and I’m not sure I ever really did. I can no longer recognise your voice inside my head. You have become a distorted image, familiar yet unrecognisable.
The only thing I remember is your favourite colour blue and how much you despised the colour yellow, and you in that red t-shirt.
“Pluto’s Last Comet”
I hope you win in life as you deserve. Dreams aren’t always meant to be broken. It is to be pursued and fought for, through the darkness and in the light.
***
I didn’t win in this story.