I am editing my work on slavery and a fierce flashback, overcomes me.
You were there at that period of a major freak out when that crucial deadline loomed over my head.
You stayed up to help me make sense out of nonsense.
I find memories of you everywhere, even in my work.
Can you at least give me one space for clean breathing?
Yes, it is selfish after the fact but even you can understand that sometimes distance is best.
Sad, I was the one who started that rift valley but look where it got me.
Back to remembering you in the oddest of places whilst doing the strangest thing: Editing.