In the cold reflection of her window that protects her from the outside world; a lone girl stands staring at the world she loves and despises. Her eyes filled with a love for the world, and carelessness towards it. She gazes upon it as if she were a thunderstorm bearing down on the earth, powerful enough to destroy beauty; but gentle enough to ease even the most fragile things to life. She feels these feelings she used to know surge through her as she stares longingly at the night, trying to burn it and her emotions forever into her memory. She wants things the way they were.

To her every age she was had a different smell, taste, and feeling. She wants those back. She wants what the world stole from her… The emotions of childhood she found so beautifully enthralling. She wonders sometimes if she will feel the same way in the future about her current life. Perhaps, there is a reason we miss the past. She misses the warm sunlight and the taste of ice cream on her tongue (the two things she can't have) as summer wind picked up her hair and flung it entrancingly around her head. She misses the black and white photos of her dancing and twirling; and laughing.

She misses that summer she spent up north where it was unseasonably warm. She's not even sure that was the reason it was warm; it could have been the warmth of the fiery red-head that was next to her. It could have been the only person she ever loved warming her beyond anything she'd felt before. She felt so happy without a single care to burden her now overloaded brain. She has a fear of summer returning, in the sense she may see him again and that he won't like how she had changed so much. But she misses him so terribly. All her friends ask her why she doesn't call him, but they don't know she does. They don't know that the only phone number connecting their hearts was no longer valid.

Every boy she meets she makes herself think that maybe he could replace the freckled dream she's been waiting for. That maybe somehow they will stack up to all her expectations (just like he did.) But they're never the same. They make her happy for a while, they make her forget for just a few hours, but then he comes back to haunt her mind. She fears her own reflection because when she looks into her eyes, all she can see is him peering back at her. She is so afraid to wash the shirt she wore with him last. The shirt that she was wearing when he so casually took his hand and patted her on the back in an oh-so-loving manor. She is afraid even more that she let him slip away, for now she has realized she can't remember what his touch felt like. Only that her stomach did more flips that an Olympic gold medalist. She remembers how normal his hand felt when she placed hers inside it when he helped her up the hill so she didn't fall and get hurt. But she did fall. And oh did she get hurt.

She remembers his scent to this very day. Like sunflowers at high noon. I still remember your scent, they way the sunlight set your already flaming red hair even more afire, and your eyes green around the edges and blue in the middle that seemed to hypnotize me. Yes, I still remember