three
Skin on skin.
I remember trailing my fingers over the flat plane of his stomach. I remember tracing the line of his jaw. I remember pressing my lips to his collarbone and making my way up his neck. I remember that his favourite colour was yellow and that he liked to tell the truth.
I remember the soft curve of his neck. I remember placing my fingers over his veins and feeling the blood flowing. I remember him being alive, with a beating heart and an untamed soul.
I remember watching the muscles in his back contract as he moved up the ladder to the roof. I remember lying there with him, staring at the clouds and laughing because we were young and foolish and beautiful.
I remember the late nights walking down pale streets, our hands together and the love we felt running between us. I remember when we ran, together, all of the way to the beach, where we rolled in the grass and drew our names in the sand. I remember feeling so completely and utterly unstoppable from his love. I remember our moments, but I don't remember him.
Nobody is telling me, either. The doctor says it is best for me to figure him out by myself. The doctor says a lot of things, and because she has a degree and I don't, people listen to her.
My doctor is unarguably the most annoying human on the plant.
