I don’t remember what you were wearing the last time I saw you. I don’t remember what I was wearing either. I remember driving in a hurry so you wouldn’t be late for your trip home, and I remember saying a rushed goodbye. I don’t remember the kiss at all. I thought I did, but then I realized I was remembering another kiss at another terminal, months earlier. I remember you quitting, and I remember all the crying, and I remember being angry when the phone would ring and being angry when it wouldn’t, but now I have to look at pictures to remember the slope of your shoulders. I didn’t remember you at all on purpose for a long time, but then last night you showed up in my dream, and we very calmly discussed why everything went wrong. Except that it was a dream, so you said things like “first of all, I got grounded for having a clone,” but I knew exactly what you meant.