In this story he's smoking a cigarette on the front porch of my heart. He's saying goodbye and all of the muscles in my heart are constricting like they're trying to force him to stay. He puts out the cigarette with his foot and with that, all of the light

In this story, you are miles away. Your home is flooded with sunlight. You are standing alone but not lonely at a lightful window. Underneath you, there are heartaches and happiness, there are pregnancies and marriages and death. In this story, you have not forgotten about the boy or the cigarette, in this story you remember the better times, the joy of love and the crisp ache of love leaving. In this story you are full and alive and happy.