Right kind of wrong

How old am I ?

There's a song heavy with a voice laden with nostalgia.

Like honey, it flows slowly off my tongue. It's sticky, hard to roll off, and swallow but sweet. So I let it sit on the back of my throat slowly dissolving its saccharine down my mouth.

Guess.

Funny how much it means now. This pattern, I live.

But it was a song when I was 16. Whispered to me in my dreams. And it follows me through like my unshakeable shadow.

3,2,1.

My shadow. Heavy, laden with memories. Songs, hallmark cards and a midnight blue dress.

So much to choose from to remember with this song. 365 days ending with a new year. Life sorted by crisp, brown paper wrapped new textbooks.

I won't put on the dress, the cards were thrown and the songs deleted.

Time's up.