“It occurs to me that I really can't remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the café, your figure, your dress, that I still see.”
And I can’t say it much better than that. Except it wasn’t a dress but, in fact, a cotton tee. Not the tables but the way the streetlight bounced off your jaw. I don’t remember your voice anymore or even the words you gave me. I can only dig my fingers deeply into the body of your laugh.