I remember this feel about you,
I just remember the fog, the book I read and where I sat in the bus.
I remember you sit in the previous row, and I feel a little bit sleepy that day.
I also remember the checker patterns on your shirt and backpack you were carried.
But why I can’t remember the date? Where we’re heading to, how many hours we’re spent together or what exactly we’re doing that day?
Are you a sad story but give me a happy memory or just a passing-by stranger with strong impression?
Anyway, thank you.
Although I don’t know the reason of being happy, but you’ve made me so.
Because the feel is always back whenever I sat in the bus,
on a foggy day,
At the last row seat,
with a nice book.
*written after peeking on someone’s diary ;))