The other day, as I mindlessly watched TV from my worn-out old sofa, I looked to my left and felt your presence there. It made me smile. I was reminded of how we had sat there in comfortable silence after a post-lunch chat; the curtains drawn, the room cool and cosy. The perfect setting for our first kiss. Then I looked down at the floor and grinned at the memory of our pre-breakfast makeout session the next day, with the curtains open and the door unlatched. The thrill of being walked in on at any moment. Writing this I realise how young and hopeful it made us seem. And we were so young, you have your birth certificate to prove it and I have my juvenile behaviour. It seems so long ago now, but in reality it's just been a few months. I'll be honest. I haven't spent most of my days thinking of you and wondering how things would have worked out between us. I haven't made any attempts to even find out what you're up to these days. And I harbour no dreams of us picking up from where we left off. But there are days in my life, when a tiny thing that I see or someone I meet, reminds me of you. And it just makes me smile. I realise that it was the best relationship I've ever been in. There were never any tears or hurt or accusations. There was never any talk of the future or ties to bind us. We were together because we wanted to be. We loved because we wanted to. We also walked off in our separate directions because we wanted to. Now all I have is happy memories of those few short months when we were part of each other's lives. And it just makes me smile. Like it always will.