You wonder why you remember the most insignificant things in life. Moments that don't seem to matter, or rather, that shouldn't matter. Except they do- a word here, a gesture there. These things, they come back and haunt you, taunt you from time to time. A last glance. A last chance. The instance in which you lost someone without realizing how precious he or she was to you. Or maybe just a point, a point in time, which wasn't necessarily better, brighter or happier... Just that it is a point in time you can never or will never go back to. Not necessarily something you regret either. The strange silly nostalgia for nothing in particular. You sit by yourself in your own head and feel a little sad for a while. It is like sitting in a bus looking out of the glass window and watching the road and the trees outside blur into one and the dying orange light makes everything look so beautiful and mysterious and you miss a stop you should have stopped at. What else did you miss? The sky on a particular day. The shapes of the clouds. Who you were with. Who were you with? Did you two hold hands? Did you want to? What you wore. Your shoes. Did they hurt? How comfortable were you? The air. Your hair. The rest of the world passing by. Whoooosshhhhhh.