Inspired by “Eet” — Regina Spektor

He used to smile so easily around you. The kind of smile that tugged at the corners of your memory every time you heard your old favorite songs — the ones you played together back when the world was softer. But after everything you both survived, something inside him shifted. He forgot how to be gentle. How to laugh. How to say the things he once said so effortlessly. It reminded you of forgetting the lyrics to a song you’d sung all your life. Familiar. But suddenly unreachable.

One evening, you found him sitting alone under a streetlamp, headphones on, staring at the ground like it hurt him. You sat beside him, knees brushing like they used to when you were younger. He didn’t look up. He didn’t need to — he knew it was you. “I can’t remember it,” he muttered. “How to be the version of me you loved.”