It wasn’t perfect. But it was ours.
I kept thinking: The second time. What does the second time even mean?
But August 2017 is still there, tucked inside me like a photograph I don’t need to see to remember. Caylin Me And Molly For The Second Time -2017 g...
Caylin spoke first.
The sun was setting behind the trees, painting everything gold and amber like a filter from a movie we’d never star in. It wasn’t perfect
“Don’t make me wait that long,” I said.
I stared at the message for ten minutes. Then I typed back: “Yeah. Okay.” I remember driving to Caylin’s place that evening. Windows down. Playlist on shuffle — some mix of Lorde, Frank Ocean, and way too much 1975 for someone who claimed to be over their indie phase. What does the second time even mean
Molly was already there — sitting on the floor, rolling something that smelled like teenage rebellion and garden herbs. She waved without looking up.