text: “Do you remember that time that you and I drove around looking at green hills, and we hooked up, our bodies entangled in a kaleidoscope of shapes and movements? We had taken my mother’s Jeep Cherokee to the end of the road and then hiked along the Caney Fork. You made me bring a full backpack stuffed with your favorite blanket, and a shit ton of rubbers, I mean, so many that there was no possible way we were going to use them all. You said we would, and you did that smile you always did when you were up to something. Your lip curled in the corner, and your teeth just barely peeked through their coral covers. You forced me to carry the backpack because after all, ‘I was such a big, strong man.’ “I was barely a man at all, more like a boy. I was twenty, and we had only been dating for four months. This is going to sound childish, but, I was so excited that I was able to get laid that those first few months were a complete blur. I remember this moment so clearly though. It’s surprising what sticks with you. Anyways, we had hiked along the Caney Fork and made it to Scott’s Gulf. Remember that waterfall? And how it snuck out of the canyon wall, came out, fell, and when it finally reached the bottom it snuck back into the ground? Goddamn, it was almost as beautiful as you were that night. The water was so clear. "We laid the blanket down, wrapped in each other’s arms, and stared at the waterfall for what felt like ages. There was something hypnotizing about it. You turned away from the water and towards me. You whispered in my ear, ‘Is it going to be like this forever?’ I was staring at the sky, which was melding colors like melting Neapolitan ice cream. I hesitated, thinking about it for a second, you might not have known that, but I was young, and I’m sure you’ve had the same thoughts before too. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ I responded, the words seem so far from me now, like it was a totally different conversation than what I remember. You kissed me on the cheek and said, ‘I hope you’re right.’ I turned and kissed you on the lips, before I knew it we were a sweaty mess of skin, and shapes. "We eventually headed home; you fell asleep in the passenger seat with your feet on the dash, and your hand clutching mine. That day was so passionate, and uncanny, so unlike us now. It’s not the same as when we were younger. Maybe we can rekindle those feelings. I want to make love to you, not just love you. We could go back, maybe, and hike along the Caney Fork. What do you say?” “That wasn’t me.