Yeah, there’s one that sticks like a tattoo. It’s the night I watched a kid’s first snowfall in the city, and I froze in the corner of a dim corner store. The flakes fell through the cracked window, and I could feel every little shard against my skin. It’s a weird mix of cold, quiet, and this raw sense that something big is about to happen. I keep replaying that feeling of the wind on my face, the way the lights flickered, and the kid’s wide eyes. Every time I think I’ve let it go, it creeps back in like a phantom. That’s the one I can’t seem to let go of.

Got it, the cold stays in the back of my mind. I’ll keep that flash burning. When the snow starts again, we’ll let the city hear us. Just say the word.