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As it turns out I was missing one ingredient for my lemon curd recipe. I made stroganoff and a two layer cake instead. Overcompensation is a real thing.

Those red ballet flats from the Gap run circles in my mind. I distinctly remember wearing them on my first trip back home from Chicago. You sent me home with that iconic bouquet of daisies. I wore my trench coat, jeans from banana republic, and those red flats. The very ones with holes on the outsides from my heavy steps on those Chicago streets. We walked nearly six miles that day, my feet felt every step. I remember sobbing uncontrollably on the greyhound clutching my flowers and listening to the soothing strum of guitar in “green river” by real estate. I remember walking from my old apartment to the office to pick up the keys to my brand new apartment. Looking down at my feet, pink and cold from the torrential downpour I was moving in. The feeling of the cut on my right foot aching with each step rubbing it more raw.
My memories of you, more in depth than those memories of others, seared into my mind. Try as I might, I can’t seem to forget your face uncertainly saying goodbye to a blank tinted bus window.