Sometimes I talk to you.
Sometimes I remember us.
But most of the time, the memory is at the back of my mind.
And I can finally have that clarity.
And feel absolute indifference.
But those rare times, the memory moves forward.
And that clarity is obscure.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/45416709-288-k469835.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
The First
Short Story"I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say." ~Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca You were the first one. And no matter how hard I try, I can never forget.