They were like old tape records that played continuously, those memories. Every time I watch them, it picks up broken pieces and glues them all back together. Piece-by-piece, they come in waves. First was your touch, and then your voice, and then your eyes, oh, how could I had forgotten your eyes. And then your heart, the way you loved me all those years; the warmth of Summer and chills of Winter, the breeze of Spring and the beauty of Autumn. Each coming back and all weighed me down that made me come to the conclusion that I... I'm still in love with you.
And like a jigsaw puzzle, all seemed to fit. The shards that has been brought back almost completed the whole portrait, but one piece was missing — and even I couldn't find that missing piece. The piece might've been you, or it might've been me, but that only tells us that we can't finish what we already stopped; we can't fit in a whole picture.