Sometimes, you like to reminisce on how things used to be.
He'd show up on your porch with a mischievous grin before grabbing your hand and running all the way back to his house. The two of you would lay in his backyard, staring up at the clouds for hours. You'd stay that way until the sun went down and your mom would call and demand that you come home for dinner. You couldn't have been older than ten, but you remember thinking, his hand clasped tightly with yours, that maybe this was what it felt like to be in love.