Should've Known Better

For Moonlit.Memories Dull or Exciting? {A True Story Contest}

I walk down the familiar streets of my hometown, my eyes scan the distance. I slow my pace, leaning against an old, wooden bench. There are multiple words and names carved into it's light surface. My gaze falls upon a crooked metal basketball hoop, and I shut my eyes.

I hear the bouncing of the orange ball against blacktop. I hear our laughter mixing in the air. Mostly, I hear his voice, saying my name.

With that, I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm back in time; back with him.