Layla stood on the stage, her delicate features highlighted by dim lights and velvet curtains draping over the sides. She looked around examining every person until her eyes locked on mine, then she began her story.

Tensing up she recited endless memories of playing in the warm sand and cool water, laying on blankets and daydreaming about futures. Layla talked about sugary kisses and sour goodbyes, mindless love and adventurous lust. The more she spoke, the more I remembered.

I recall all the late nights spent staring at the stars, wondering if we were actually going to make it. I remember telling her that there was no need to worry, I would do anything to keep her by my side.

Now she recites this memory, full of pain and anger, misery and loneliness. I know I didn't keep her, I always knew I couldn't, for she was perfectly out of my league.