And when they played they played as if for an audience, loud and overly happy and free, imprinting into their minds' eye The Best Years Of Their Lives and taking it down to photocopy into prose later. They experienced highs and lows AsOne now and laughed louder to cover the impending silence of separation.

They wondered what summer would bring, and whether they could possibly jump the fold in time going back to live at home would bring. Because there is always a fold when you go back. Visual memory is a powerful thing; but was it powerful enough to rewrite history, pretend it never happened?

They laughed loudest at this and hoped to God it wasn't.

ink :: graphite