June 7th, 2012

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
He didn’t answer. He sat there, blankly.
"I want a life worth writing about.” His voice broke in the silence.
“I’ll write about you,” I offered.
He took a long drag, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Apparently he smokes.
“I mean, I want to do something amazing.”
“But you are amazing.”
I had only just met him, but I strongly felt the depth of our connection; as if I had known him for years.

The ashes fell on the soft petals, burning holes through life.
He looked at me with sad eyes.
“I just want to be remembered.”