just a few new york towns away using the same metaphors absentmindedly. not thinking of each other. but thinking nonetheless. thinking of love and of loss but never of each other. it’s easy to remember the long things. the permanent ones. but the short ones, the hot ones, the happiest ones, those memories are a little foggy now. we don’t remember each other like we used to and my metaphors aren’t for you anymore. nor yours for me. yet they are still the same and have found a way to become happy, and that is the most comfort i could ever find.