Little did I know that I've forgotten a lot how ardently melancholic the scorching afternoons were.

those afternoons, where it consisted of sweet reeks of cotton candy and lollipop, those afternoons that I don't have to beg just to rest, not to measure the time approximately and counting how proximate the distances are, like how I trace my digits on things to know if they're adjacent;

this afternoon, it's like I'm coming home to you.