We didn’t know it was the best day.

We just laughed until our cheeks hurt

and the sun leaned a little closer,

like it wanted to listen.

Shoes were off,

music was loud,

nothing made sense,

and it didn’t have to.

We danced on cracked pavement,

hands in the air,

hearts too full for words.

Someone spilled juice on the speaker.

It sparked once—

we screamed, then laughed harder.

The photos we took were all blurry.

But somehow they captured everything.

Now the days are quieter.

Different doesn’t mean gone.

I see a sunflower on the sidewalk

and remember you spinning beneath one.

No reason.

Just because.

You’re not here every day—

but you are.

In the way I smile at nothing.

In the way the light still feels like a promise.