He wants to remember the memories. He wants to write them down, and create a story that all can read and use to understand him better. He wants to do this, but the edges of his memories are frayed, blurred. He tries anyways, puts his fingers to the keyboard, and begins to write.

I reach out for her, and watch the perfection of our intertwined fingers keeping themselves company amongst the warmth of one another. Our arms swing to and fro as one, and we dance our way down a street lit alley, snow glistening serenely as it falls to a stop on our noses, only to disappear much too soon. There must be music playing somewhere, in some unknown dimension, because such beauty demands its presence. The scene is ethereal, and I come to realize that this is as close to heaven as one can ever be. We continue our way down the alley, her hand in mine, no words exchanged between us, but knowing everything that is to be said in each other's thoughts. Our footsteps are left behind us, to be later followed by some intrigued kid or inquisitive pet, and yet we stroll along, walking into the moonlight, following its nightly path. We walk with no destination, at ease in each other's presence; we must glow as we move together, we can't be ordinary. I lift my eyes to her, and smile, staring into her dark eyes, knowing that this night is surreal. The falling white snow cascades its way across her face, and she is everything I see. I watch her eyes brighten in the moonlight, twinkle, and shine. But then, the light in those eyes begins to fade, and yet she fails to notice anything as her presence diminishes. I look away briefly, frightened, and return my gaze to her; she is as beautiful as before. We continue walking, me reassured, and her in tranquility. Some say time is relative, and I say it must be, because there at that moment, it didn't even exist. I catch her eye again, and her gaze catches my mind in its trap, but again, as I stare into her eyes, her presence falters, so I quickly look away. I am happy to see that as I return my eyes to her, she is as there as ever before, glamorous in the shimmering snow. An owl hoots in the night, and she whispers into my ear. I don't make out the words, but the meaning is clear enough: it's beautiful, never leave me, my love. I smile at her and we turn a corner, onto a more crowed city street. More orange lights illuminate our path, and throw the snow into a brighter whirlwind. Our hands are still swinging, best friends forever, never letting go. I again look at her, and her eyes swivel to mine once more. Captivated, I stare deeper, and love that I can lose myself within them. But again, her eyes lose focus, and her frame diminishes, but this time I hold my gaze, and watch as my love disappears into the night, like a blurred memory. I look away, and begin walking; I hear her return, and call my name. It seems that if I want her to stay, I can never look at her, or see her again.