#124 A bit of you

Rubbing out an annotation, with your eraser I stole in class. Tracing the words of my favourite book, that you pretended I did not read under the covers until midnight, because you loved its story once.

I drink the matcha you brought from Japan as I look out at the rain, and say ‘you can’t always throw sixes’. They’re your words I borrowed, like the shirt I never gave back.

Whether you’re out of my life or in it, these things were once your favourite too. And every time I pick them up, just know I still think of you.