I thought it had quietly been laid to rest, like a dead body buried in the forest. It took one step, one gentle knock, and my metaphor shattered like painted glass.

Reality is a bit more raw. The scar has barely scabbed over. Underneath still bleeds.

Thank you for showing me how much it meant to me. Thank you for reminding me, with this dull throb, that my heart is still just a little tender and vulnerable. I am only human, still foolish, and you were a very, very good friend.