4 days ago

I couldn’t resist the temptation. 

I sifted through the messages in blue, black, and white. I had to wonder, as the memory still flashes like a bright white light in my mind.

It was Canada Day. The descent of a fresh heartbreak unfolded on 6th Concession. I was in a familiar state of mind.

That summer was a blur of sadness, Taylor Swift lyrics, and unreleased Ke$ha ballads.

The montage starts. A house with an above ground pool. You in a bikini. Running through the trees, I strung your clothing on low branches. Hot pavement. I was barefoot running on concrete, being chased by wet pool towels in summer’s daylight. The glass door closed. A final phone call the next day at dusk.

“I don’t think I can anymore.”

Flash forward to now. I hit Toronto on St. Patrick’s weekend. Dialed your number for the first time in three years. Is it pathetic I still have it memorized after all this time?

There is nothing in this life more bittersweet than a first love.

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