A cry. A contentness.

The door was unlocked and I felt the need to have someone walk through the door and see me cry. Ask me if I was okay. If there was anything wrong. If it did happen then without fail… smile and say no. Pride gets in the way.

In comfort two songs played.

His voice was heard. Close to my heart. Through …the grated bars of my speakers (a cruel joke).

Through the songs he sang I remembered the bliss that was. Nights, not days, which passes quickly. His voice still ringing in my ears until I fall into a deep slumber or sleepless bliss.

A memory frequently visited with regret as such instances in life, though rare are cherished are the sifted remnants of time.

Sadly, once the bad is remembered the memory turns into a nightmare.

Without fail the ending of this dream was… school.

Tears fell.

Two entered.

My wandering thoughts were interrupted. Footsteps approached the door. I rubbed my eyes. Stretched my back. A fake yawn.

A phone call.

A friend. Confort. Relief. I was alright again.

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