• I remember.

    I remember asking, as clear as the soft, orange-red setting sky above, why it was he kept everything to himself.
    Why he hid everything with an easy laugh, and a gentle smile pulled across strained lips.

    He paused, as though weighing the question, dark eyes staring thoughtfully over the horizon.
    His shoulders seemed to fall for a moment, as though the world had caught up with him, leaving only a haggard, tired shell before it vanished.
    Turning, he looked at me with that same easy smile and self deprecating laugh, answering with a twist of countenance and a glimpse of shadows.

    "Because when you keep things from someone it hurts less when they leave."

    He paused again, eyes clouding briefly as he turned away, the wind sifting through ebon locks.

    "People... People vanish faster than clouds on a clear day. One day they're there, the next… they're not. In the end, all it ever does is rain."

    His figure sighed deeply, a plume of smoke drifting past pale, cracked lips in the chill morning.
    His shoulders hunched some, and a bitter expression flickered across his features - a ghost in the fall of twilight.

    I remember looking away.

    The horizon was changing, and the sun had sunk behind the hills, the last slivers of light dying behind the gently sloping landscape.
    A few scattered clouds were clinging stubbornly to the skyline, and the muted oranges were quickly being replaced by dark blues.

    What was it, this place of fallen leaves and muted colors?
    How was it, that the sway of the blades of grass, the feel of the bark beneath fingertips could encompass such a feeling of disembodiment?

    I remember.

    Closing my eyes, lashes brushing against my cheeks as I exhaled, delving the depths of my sentiments and thinking perhaps I knew what he meant.
    My eyes fluttered open, and I thought I would say as much to him, and turned to do so.

    He was gone.

    Brow creasing, I glanced about, eyes tracing the easy rise and fall of the land, attempting to reclaim his image.
    But he was gone.
    The only memory of him was one of a gentle smile, and eyes that hid shadows in the falling dusk.
    Shoving my hands into my pockets, I stayed there for some time, seconds, minutes, hours – what did it matter?
    Eventually I started back down, following the paths of the lone clouds that drifted upon the horizon.

    I remember thinking.

    Maybe it would rain...