She remembered these fields, the way the wind pushed the tall grass towards her pale, itchy legs. Always barefoot, always laughing.
She remembered her cat, and the way she would greet her with a playful nudge of the paw.
But black tar filled her lungs, pressing and folding into bitterness, an all consuming ache. Once hot joy spilled from her heart, a tangible substance so smooth and sweet on the tongue.
Returning to pungent smells overwhelming, nothing can change the memories burned into her mind.
Nothing will be as it was, nothing will continue.
The Return, Alli Wynn 2014