A flash of light.
He felt it before he saw it.
And—-it was imbued with all the oldies and the explosive emotions that went with them.
What was it?
Could it have been that he still felt her hand in his? Still remembered the feeling when they drove into the dark night with their fingers intertwined, singing along with the songs?
It ain’t fair when the past becomes the past. It disallows the truth.
We need the past to be a part of the present.
The sting is too sweet to be otherwise.