Shared memories

September 16, 2008

I thought I was the only one who still remembers details: the smoky scotch, the way he picked me up over his shoulder in the street while I laughed harder than I had in forever, the last dance before he left to catch his plane.

Imagine my surprise when he passed them back to me like small gifts: a favorite drink, my favorite flower, the song that used to tie us across the miles. “I made curry tonight,” he said, and even years later, it remained as inside a joke as if we had shared it yesterday.

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