The wind tugged at her regret, pulled the sinewy threads of her guilt until the gauzy web intricately formed a cage. A tight noose around her neck reminded her of what the future held, while the clasps around her wrists captured her in the present. The only thing left of the past was that feeling she kept coming back to, like a foreign taste one can't forget, musn't forget for fear one will never taste it again, never secure it on tantalized tastebuds.

(Remember what it feels like to be free.)