Footprints in the Sand

"It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds." -What Sarah Said

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     "You're lying to me," I accused, pulling my hands away from my freckled face.

     He shook his head, his brown hair shifting in the process. "I wish I was." He ran a strong hand through his hair, making it stick up in odd places. "I'm sorry, baby."

     Wrapping my arms around him, I buried my face into the crook of his neck. "It's not your fault, so don't be sorry." He shook his head but didn't say anything. His arms tightened around me and he started to hum quietly.

     "They are probably wrong. I mean, doctors are wrong, sometimes. Right?" Pulling back to meet his hazel eyes, I nodded my head.

     "Yeah, sometimes." Giving me a crooked smile, he kissed me.

     "Don't you go worrying too much. I'm sure they're wrong." I gave him a small smile before pulling him to me in another tight embrace. I had hope, hope that I was desperately clinging onto.

     Hope isn't always enough, though.