Gone with the Wind i hate how the memories stay but the people don’t. like wind slipping through the window on late-night car rides, you feel it, you don’t hold it. the world hums softly, a murmur of voices, music low in the background, like a feeling you didn’t know you’d miss and want over and over again. you never know when your best friend, your mom, family, that one book, will stop being yours. they fly out, like breath against glass, like air you never noticed leaving. and one day, i will too.