a distant memory.

There was this one night -- I remember you wearing a white shirt and faded jeans, just flip flops and your hair tied in that knot. It was getting late and you had to get home soon. We passed through a convenience store on the way to go look for this orange soap and it was there that this memory got stuck. You, under that harsh fluorescent light, looking upon two rows of soap and shampoo, then you looked at me, a smile across the distance of a few shelves of household products and cosmetics. I called you, some moments later, but not by your name, and you held my hand as I got close enough, silent and grinning.

I wonder now, if this memory is just too distant it already borders on fantasy. But I distinctly remember your smile and I think that is all that matters for this remembrance to be true.

It was not a cold night, it was warm. Like us.