It ached. I remembered you, and it ached. I walked where our feet treaded, my sneakers in sync with the prints we had left in my memory. I held her hand, and thought about how warm yours felt that first night our lips touched. The smell of strawberries coming from her hair suffused the chill night air, and I couldn’t help but compare how similar it was to the flowery aroma of yours. Almost angrily I pulled her chin up, and stared deep into brown eyes that looked so much like yours;