I sat in that same spot that we both did years ago, your cheeks were bright red that day. I listened to you talk about how you always looked forward to Saturday mornings and how the mud was messing up your boots.
I pat the wet grass beside me, telling myself that you was there. Sitting on that small hill, I watched the clouds gather, getting denser by the minute. You remind me of the seasons, all within the same day. Complete chaos.
I still remember your favourite, winter. You've always enjoyed stormy days.
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It's a mess
