Sometimes the memories crash into her, accelerating her heart, sending tingles down her bones, leaving her breathless and shaken to the core. It's usually when she's folding the fresh laundry – yet she somehow always forgets to buy different fabric softener when she runs out. Or maybe she doesn't really forget, just chooses not to remember.
Today she's reminded of the night they openly acknowledged their feelings to each other – the crisp bite of the night's air; the thrillingly beautiful view of the resplendent stars, thrown carelessly against the velvet expanse of darkness. She had snuggled closer to him, breathing in his soft, intoxicating scent – freshly washed clothes with a hint of cologne and a touch of beer, consumed earlier in the evening. Her heart was thudding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her cheeks were rosy with cold and excitement. His hand found hers.
She's lost, standing there in the present and entwined with a memory long passed when Squall walks in and she abruptly turns around, eyes glittering and heart aching.
But she never wants to forget.