The backstreets are our eternal home. We’d run through it all like

diamonds in the rough who never knew their full value. I still miss the endless nights

we’d capitulate to our inhibitions and watch the chips fall where they don’t.

The tranquil autumn breeze perfectly complemented our laconic adventures, rolling down hills without regard for the abstract concept known as tomorrow. Then the ground caved in and we were caught on opposite sides. Before long, the schism had torn us apart.

Two days becomes two years as the pages become detached from the calendar. Now we work to make our paths converge once more, knowing all the while it’ll never be the same but still trying to render it as such nonetheless. As the sun sets, we hear a voice whispering over the horizon.

“This city will forever enshrine us in its memory.”