log: 02
His lips no longer make her want to forget. They make her want to remember.
Now when he walks in the room, the room closes in on her. The walls surround her and she feels her heartbeat aching in her chest.
"I love you more than anything."
His restless fingers are no longer endearing, but annoying.
His need to win is not a misdirected passion anymore, but something to make up for his incompetence.
His tense and lilting voice a portrayal of what's past his repetitive jokes.
The golden days reminisced for what they are while all that's left is what could have been.
And yet, sometimes, a ripple of gold will reappear. A ghostly memory, a wisp of yearning.
But she knows, that the reality is that he was fool's gold, and she was the fool.
