Almost a decade ago I dated a beautiful girl. She had bright blonde curly hair and the sweetest smile. She was a few years younger then me but we fell in love immediately. I took her to meet my family. My mom showed her pictures of me as a little boy. I met her parents. Her dad loved my jokes. We would sip coffee and talk for hours. I took her to my sister’s house. We sang in the car on the way there, I almost ran the red light. I was just mesmerized by her beauty. We would stay up late and dance around the kitchen.

One day I told her it was over. She was just too young and too different from me. I moved on with another girl, also young and beautiful. Eventually I was reminded to mail back the first girl’s things. As I went through each item I was reminded of every memory. Then I found her scarf. The scarf she forgot at my sister’s house.

Things didn’t work out with my new girl so I called up my old girl. Realizing I never told her I loved her I reminded her. But every time we tried to get back together I wouldn’t commit. Soon she stopped replying. All I had left of her was the scarf. The scarf she left at my sister’s house. I remember that moment and every moment all too well.

I thought about her all the time. Through every relationship, day, month, year, everything. Then the news spread she wrote a book. A book about our short lived relationship. Now everyone would know the story, yet no one would know my regrets. I am now left to be alone and grow old slowly, with nothing left of her but the scarf.

(Inspired by Taylor Swift’s all too well)