The Return

The weathered building still stood, its lemon-yellow facade now only a faded patchwork of condemned signs and boarded up windows. It was the first time I had ventured back there since losing you. Steeling my heart with a deep breath, I opened the door and walked inside. The rickity stairs were higher than I remembered. Now, years later, the trip up was almost as difficult as the trip back in time. In broken ruins thick with dust, thicker still with memories, past and present collide and pain and sorrow pass in tears of liberation. It was right to return. Some days are diamonds, some days are dust, and some days can never be anything but both.