It was a day like any day, walking nowhere in particular, when he turned to her and told her, "One day, we'll miss this moment."

With that simple sentence, a murky pang of sadness settled deep inside her. He wasn't a poet, but maybe he should have been.

Would we yearn for the most simple day, one day? The most mundane sunset, the walk to nowhere...

Knowing that time cannot be held onto—that each day together also brought them farther apart, that they would never be as close as they were in this moment.

It reminded her of a scribbled journal entry from long ago; how the happiest memories always became the saddest ones.

She held his hand tighter in resignation.

They continued on.