In the back of my mind I knew today would come, I just didn’t expect it to be this day. I search the smoldering forest for a catalyst. What possibly could trigger not just this memory response, but also the desire? The desire to have you before me, as in former times, seemingly appearing from the nowhere, mischief behind your eyes. Irritating me in the most pleasant way, causing me to forget my troubles. Thing is, the memory I hold is only two-dimensional, like a photograph; a sliver of your imperfect totality, a blossom among the thorns. Would I exchange the acres of pain for a single rose? No. But in a desert, it’s the type of thing you think about.