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I remember raspberry jelly spread across a delicious grilled cheese.
I remember phone calls that lasted for longer than I could count high right now.
I remember hotel rooms and staying awake for hours, talking about the things that we never shared with anyone.
I remember 6, the most number of movies we ever watched in a single night; we must’ve stayed up until at least 4:30.
I remember chocolates, and that entire box we ate one time; their rich, delicious filling made them at least 1,000 calories apiece.
I remember dancing like idiots to music that we know and love, screaming at the top of our lungs until we couldn’t even whisper.
I remember inside jokes and how we love to laugh at them, especially when nobody but us knows why we are laughing about pink starburst so much.
I remember talking to you in Texas and wishing you were there with me…
I remember notes I read that were like our silent communication method, filled with inside jokes and promises, even those you never kept…
I remember summers spent lounging by one pool or another, walking around gossiping, or running through sprinklers in the park.
I remember memories of snippets of conversations that have somehow glued themselves to my mind.
I remember the stories you told me to make me laugh, even when it seemed I would never be happy again.