It happened on a Thursday the kind of day that starts ordinary but ends up living in your head forever The sky was a blank sheet the color of chalk the air too thick to breathe The film club had to submit our project that week and he said we should reshoot the last scene just to make it perfect

I met him after class at the courtyard camera bag slung over my shoulder He was sitting on the ground headphones in eyes closed like he was listening to something only he could hear When I sat beside him he opened one eye and said you’re late I said no you’re early and that made him smile that small tilted smile that always hit me a little too hard

We started filming random shots grass moving shadows of leaves the reflection of our shoes in a puddle He said we needed a shot that feels like goodbye I asked why goodbye He shrugged maybe because that’s what endings look like

The camera battery flashed red but he kept shooting I told him it would die soon he said everything dies soon just keep rolling He walked backward into the sunlight and said tell me when it feels real I didn’t know what he meant but the wind picked up then and blew his hair into his eyes and for a second I thought I saw everything I was afraid to say out loud

The battery died right after that the screen went black I felt a small panic rise in my chest He laughed said guess that’s it We both knew the scene was gone but neither of us moved to fix it

We sat under the tree near the vending machine The air smelled like metal and lemon soda He opened a can and placed it between us I said do you think we’ll finish this project He said I don’t know maybe we already did maybe the story was never about the film

For a long time we didn’t speak I could hear the soft hiss of the soda and the distant shouts from the basketball court The world felt too loud and too quiet all at once

He leaned back looked at the clouds and said I think I’ll miss this I said summer’s not over yet He said maybe not for you He had that look like he was already somewhere else like he’d started walking away without moving at all

When the bell from the main building rang we packed up our things I held the camera even though it was useless now He reached out and fixed the strap that had twisted on my shoulder his fingers brushing my neck light and unsteady He said you should keep it maybe you’ll film something better I said maybe I already did

He laughed soft and stood up The soda can rolled toward me half empty still fizzing I watched it spin until it stopped

That night I checked the footage hoping some part had saved but the screen stayed blank It wasn’t broken it was just empty like it had chosen not to remember I stared until my eyes blurred and I could almost see him again inside the dark space

Maybe that’s what love is the footage we lose the moment that refuses to stay no matter how careful we try to hold it