I spent the first half of my twenties in an ocean of longing for my younger years, forgetting that you and I would drown at the very bottom of it all.

The truth is, I fell in love with her long before those muddy trails at Malden disappeared from beneath our feet. I wrap those memories in summer air, as though praying the world would never tear them out of me.

And there you lay, tanned legs and dark hair against white sheets — a sight that has kept me out of love with any man since summer sixteen.

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