Unfinished Memories

INT. OFFICE DAY

A OLDER MAN sits typing at a computer on a worn and cluttered desk.

                                                        MAN V.O. (voice over)

 . . . I longed for her. When she left, I was fourteen. I’d get arrested for vandalism within three months, establish a truancy record for 10th grade that’s yet to be beaten, and drop acid at my 1st pop festival just before turning 15 years old. Her mother sent her away. To be a good Christian . . . a good Christian girl.

Perhaps it was her. Perhaps my anger; she was sent away.

 My heart was broken as only a young person can feel that is agonizingly and hopelessly in love.

I would see her again as I grew, but I had changed: the drugs, the times, and a perhaps a girlfriend or two would blind her absence. But as I aged I remembered the way I felt when I touched her skin, her lips, her hair, and the way her clear blue eyes looked at me like a calming sea. I missed her loving me.

 And as I grew older, I missed what we could have had. I wanted that feeling back. I wanted to hold her like I did when I was young. I wanted to kiss her as if it was yesterday.

I wanted to taste her. . her hair. . . her lips . . . her skin.

I wanted to love her as I wanted to love her before she was sent away. I wanted the memories we could have had. I wanted to cherish the moments that never happened. I wanted to change time and go back to the moment we last kissed, and I ached to change the future together we never had...

1st draft