Echoes of Forgotten

Uppat a pulo ket tallo

The cool evening breeze swept through the quiet streets as Jennie and Lisa walked side by side, their steps falling into an almost forgotten rhythm. The city lights twinkled in the distance, casting a gentle glow on their faces, while the muted sounds of nighttime traffic hummed in the background. It had been so long since they'd walked together like this, just the two of them, without the weight of the world pressing on their shoulders—or at least, that's how it felt before everything had fallen apart.

Jennie stole a glance at Lisa from the corner of her eye. The taller girl's face was calm, her usual guarded expression softened by the night. There was something comforting about walking in the quiet darkness, as if the night itself gave them permission to let down their walls. The streetlights flickered occasionally, their golden light illuminating Lisa's face for brief moments before they disappeared into the shadows again.

The silence between them was heavy but not entirely uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that carried years of history, love, and pain. The last time they had walked like this, they had been happier, unaware of the storm that was brewing beneath the surface. Jennie's heart ached at the thought. She remembered the way they used to hold hands, fingers intertwined, like they were the only two people in the world. Now, their hands hovered awkwardly close, but there was still an unspoken distance between them.

Lisa seemed to sense Jennie's gaze and turned her head slightly, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's been a while, huh?" she said softly, her voice almost lost in the night air.

Jennie nodded, her throat tightening. "Yeah... it has."

They continued walking, the sound of their footsteps echoing on the empty sidewalk. Jennie's mind wandered back to the countless nights they had spent like this before everything had gone wrong. They used to walk for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It didn't matter where they were going—what mattered was that they were together.

"Do you remember..." Jennie began, her voice hesitant, "that time we walked all the way to the Han River because we couldn't sleep?"

Lisa chuckled, the sound bringing a warmth to Jennie's chest she hadn't felt in a long time. "How could I forget? We didn't realize how far it was until we were halfway there, and then we were too stubborn to turn back."

Jennie smiled, the memory bringing a bittersweet feeling with it. "You carried me on your back the last mile. My shoes were killing me."

"I remember," Lisa replied, her tone nostalgic. "I thought my legs were going to give out, but you kept laughing and telling me I was strong enough to make it."

Jennie's smile faded slightly, her heart aching at how simple and carefree things had been back then. "Those were good times," she whispered, more to herself than to Lisa.

Lisa didn't respond right away. She seemed lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, almost hesitant. "I miss it," she admitted. "I miss... us. How we used to be."

Jennie's breath caught in her throat, and she stopped walking for a moment. Lisa turned to face her, eyes soft but filled with a sadness that mirrored Jennie's own. The admission hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

"I miss it too," Jennie whispered, her voice trembling. She looked down at her feet, unable to meet Lisa's gaze. "I miss you, Lisa. I miss what we had."

Lisa took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Jennie could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the familiar sensation of being close to Lisa both comforting and terrifying at the same time. "Do you think..." Jennie began, her voice barely audible, "that we can ever get back to that?"