cieloan
The walls were painted blue bleeding over greens and yellows, like a kindergartner's fingerpaint gone wrong. It looked like it had been started again and again and again: mood swings in pigment on a wall.
I always wanted some parts of my life to flash by as a montage. It would be infinitely better than having to actually live through them. Think of it as the solution for those of us with incredibly short attention spans.
I remembered when things weren't so awkward between us. Our actions didn't have any secret messages or hidden innuendos. We didn't even know what innuendos were. The days were longer than they could have been. The summers warmer, and the winters so full of wonder.