Memory 19

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Memory 19

The night of the fourth, underneath the fireworks,  was what I considered my first kiss with you. I blame it on the chemical hormone rush and other stupid things. Your cheek full of stubble underneath the light of fireworks. Your face painted in the muted colours of firework lights. It was not even a decision. I brushed my lips against your cheek and turned away to watch the fireworks. You looked at me with a small smile. You leant in and brushed one in return. Beneath the sounds of fireworks and bright colours. I wondered if this attraction was real.

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