The one far away: False memory

 

(Sitting by the flickering campfire, a figure shifts slightly, staring into the flames as they begin to speak, their voice low and reflective)

I remember now… it all comes back, like this plague of memories that never leaves me alone. And here I am, reminiscing about something that never even happened. Strange, isn’t it? All those letters I wrote to her… I still read them. Every single one. It’s like I’m holding the pieces of a puzzle, but the picture? It never formed.

She… she smiled more when she was happy, and even when she wasn’t. Even when the weight of the world was crushing her, that smile never left her face. I think that’s what tore me apart the most—knowing there were things she never said, things she hid behind those smiles. All those sad, heartbreaking things that happen when no one’s watching, when the curtain falls.

And the way she loves… it’s so real, so authentic, that it scares me. I’m terrified that no one will ever see her the way I do. No one will adore her like I do. God, I should have said something when I had the chance, when she was still there, still that wonderfully messy person… Man, she was messy! You wouldn’t believe the chaos that surrounded her, but it was her, you know? It was her, and I’d throw every last coin I had into a wishing well if it meant she could’ve been mine.

"Dear this, dear that," I’m so tired of writing about her. I just… I want to live it now. I want to grow old with her. I remember now what we could’ve been, if only we had happened.

(Sighs deeply, standing up and dusting off their jeans)

Anyway, that’s that. Guess I should get going, gotta write another letter.

(With a small nod, they turn and walk away, leaving only the crackling fire behind.)