The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and distant rain, a familiar comfort that always reminded me of him. I stood on the edge of a jagged rock formation, the wind tugging at my hair, as if trying to pull me back to a time that no longer existed. The sky above was a canvas of fading light, painted with strokes of mauve and lilac, the colors of a dream.

My mind drifted, unbidden, to that midsummer, to the sweet, sticky taste of fruity rainbow popsicles shared in the old gazebo. A single tear, warm and unexpected, escaped the corner of my eye. I took a hesitant step, then another, descending the rocks, drawn by an imagined sound of waterfalls, only to find a void, barren and scattered with flakes of ash.

Yet, the world wasn't entirely empty. The sweet, twattling chirps of unseen birds filled the silence, and a memory, sharp and poignant, flashed through me. "You sure know how to speak gibberish," his voice, laced with gentle amusement, echoed in my mind. The pleasant sound, once a source of joy, now resurfaced old scars, allowing sadness to creep in. I was afraid, truly afraid, that I would forget his amiable yet ignorant gestures, the small things that once made my day.

I continued to walk, drawn towards an ancient canopy of trees, their branches reaching like gnarled fingers towards the twilight sky. A sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through me as my hand found the rough bark of a great trunk. It felt like eroded rock, ancient and wise. The shrubs around, vibrant and alluring, ignited a fire within me, a strange mix of sorrow and a fragile sense of wonder. Time, it seemed, was toying with me, making this moment feel both new and impossibly old. Here I was, alone.