His voice, please don't let me forget his voice.
"Thank you, my little Tripper," I whispered to my son as he handed me an old purse that has been taken out of its permanent spot in my attic. The purse has been collecting dust since my early adult days, I coughed at the filth. My brittle pale fingers opened the green zipper that revealed the most cherished memories of my youth.
The first thing I find is an old piece of parchment. I knew exactly what it was without even flipping It over yet. I turned it to reveal a photograph, of a handsome boy and me. In the photo I was smiling, a smile I didn't recognise. A smile that hasn't shown in a long time.
In the photo we were sitting in the back seats of the corvette missing from Mr Fontaine's garage. Our 'Old's' having no idea where we are. As long ago as it was, I still remember the song we were listening to. We were singing our hearts out to a song that's lyrics didn't exactly remain in our memories at the time.
"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt... to be...- wait did he say rain?"
You don't know who I'm talking about yet. If it were up to me, I'd keep it this way.
But it's not.
The thing is even if I could go back, to this moment that is, I wouldn't belong there anymore.
I wrote these words as vague as my heart could let me.
But my dear, you already know this story is ours.
Let's go right back to the beginning, the summer he came.
