“The Sound of Then”

I heard your voice—
a flicker through static,
soft as dust on an old cassette.
And suddenly,
I wasn’t here at all.

I was there—
back in summer’s too-loud laughter,
midnight drives and fast food fries,
that awful inside joke
we thought was comedy gold.

Your voice—
like a postcard from a place I once lived,
creased at the edges,
still warm from the sun.

I didn’t know I’d forgotten the sound
of your “hey”—half a smile tucked inside it—
or how my name always seemed
to stretch a little longer
when you said it.

For a second,
I was nineteen again.
For a second,
none of it had ended.

And then, the call was over.
But the echo stayed.
And so did the smile.