The following is about a real series of events that happened on a date/evening having drinks last year with someone from my past. Perhaps it will be written about in further background in a piece on Once Loved if I ever feel like it. Perhaps not. Enjoy my wee hour prose late last night though. Cheers.
I still remember that time you told me you'd go back in time for me.
You said it was to save my life.
Sometimes I wonder if that's the same story with all of them.
The craftsmen of my tenure.
The art of being and a beautiful mess of complications and...
But that was a different time or... maybe it wasn't... or maybe it's all of it and nothing and everything in between.
There's an echo of clinked glasses and quiet smiles across a table.
As I sit in the dark with only the glow of a screen I can remember it like yesterday.
It wasn't yesterday... was it?