I remember soft pillows that smelled like fresh laundry and I remember our noses almost touching, laying so close that I could count your breaths as you slept, could measure the distance your chest rose and fell beneath the blankets, could memorize the distinct shape of every freckle adorning your handsome face. I remember wrinkled noses at tasteless jokes and stifling giggles beneath palms. I had forgotten how to laugh, how to smile, how to look around this big world and see all the opportunities waiting to be discovered, but now I remember. I finally remember.