And there are moments you know you’ll remember—moments that crawl by quickly and slowly all at once, hypervivid. Your heart beats caged and desperate, expanding in your chest until you can hear the cracks in your ribcage, and time becomes little more than a ribbon wrapped around your spine, lovely and tied in a bow but ultimately insignificant. Those moments exist on a plane of their own, and no matter how much you clutch at them to stay, they can’t—sand through your fingers until you’ve wasted the last seconds trying to prolong them.
