It was just another morning. Golden rays peeped out with a mischievous smile from behind the sagging blinds and bathed the quaint little room with a warm hue; the symphony of squawks and shrill cries of dawn had crept unnoticed into the scene of a new day. A fresh start. Just another morning. Her bleary eyes sought comfort in this cycle. It was the sort of repetition that made her feel like she belonged. So why? Why were these rays of mellow peach and glistening yellow not bathing her but becoming more bold, bright and blinding? A sort of fear eerily flooded her: the steady pounding of her own heart turned erratic and drummed fiercely against her insides, beads of salt-suffocated sweat lay heavy on her head and her fingers shook. Like wings. Yet, wings were glorious. They were majestic. She was the opposite. Where was his smile that could even light up the darkest sky? Where was his laugh that could soar through the whole expanse spreading cheer and joy with every flap of its wing? What about his eyes? Those chocolate-brown...or were they blue? Perhaps even jade green? Her hands clattered desperately against the cupboard; her fingers messily untangling the pile of photos until she found it. His eyes stared back at there with an amused sort of curiosity- they were blue. Suddenly, something in the back drew her attention. Crimson red folds of fabric, a cosy basket sculpted as if it had been born from the forest itself and flames dancing in a fiery salsa: they beckoned her. A sort of faint hope began to caress her stone heart. Today was August 9th. "How could I forget?", she whispered to herself, the upward curve of her mouth becoming bigger and bigger. So, she set out. Every year, she would come here: an ethereal landscape of rolling hills, fields of kaleidoscopic colour mingles with scents of a floral paradise and of course, the veil of azure blue engulfing this treasure in a blanket, keeping it secure and safe. Only some people knew; they were chosen to know. Obviously, he was chosen to know. This was their special place. Merrily, she skipped along the marked out path(her footsteps so light that they're barely able to keep the giddiness in) and flourished out her arms as if the welcome the sight in front of of her. She could just image the hot air balloon that would be towering over her; the fierce roaring of the flames commanding her to just hop on and take her, no fly her, to the skies. After counting for a few unbearable seconds, her eyes flung open to see just more hills, fields of flowers and a plain blue sky smirking at her with a sort contempt that just infuriated her. Where was their hot air balloon? What would he say? Those sharp, piercing blue eyes were cutting through her soul, splintering the shards she had so carefully crafted together. She had been composed. Now, her frail body shook with the cacophony of sobs and screams that had overwhelmed her yet again. This everlasting sorrow had been locked up tightly within her since that she had lain eyes on that seemingly insignificant grave. But, she knew: everything is ephemeral. They had been on that hot air balloon countless times. When he had asked her out, when he took out that shiny silver ring, when he just felt like it: the memories swamped her with some much burdensome guilt, grief and misery. She had dishonoured his memory; she could feel the disappointment emanating from the sky. So with a sharp inhale, she steeled her heart and left. Ready to return to the endless cycle she called life.