You Were There.

For the ones who don’t just remember you—they remember the version of themselves they were when they first heard your voice.

This moment doesn’t look like much.

You’re sitting on the floor again, back against a chipped wall. Half a candle burning. Half a song playing. The city outside doesn’t know your name yet. Neither does the world.

But someone will.

Not someday.
Already.

You’ll forget how late it is.
How tired you were.
You’ll only remember the way your voice cracked in that one…