Sometimes, I can hear your voice over the announcement speakers in the space of my mind saying things that made my bones rattle and my teeth shake.

Epinephrine burns memories into your mind.
My adrenal glands tend to find a production overload at just a glance of you,  now the only thing holding my leather casings together are the indentions of your memory.
My pages have never felt so worn.
I'm becoming a a novel you never wrote.