My goal today was to lean in to an entirely positive feel. I liked the idea of a matchbox being this momento you collect and forget about. Like when you find an old concert ticket or receipt in your pocket. You get drawn back to that moment and get this momentary but visceral recollection of that time. 

You waited alongside the lint balls that had gathered to stare at you, their new visitor, mildly forlorn within the confines of a denim pocket. A favour gathered like a photograph to surprise the forgetful hand and playback the ruckus of tables and conversation, the sizzle of meals and playful words that danced across a sunset table. They tickled the cool droplets that gathered on the glass…

I think my favourite part is actually ‘mildly forlorn’. It tickles me to think that the forgotten matchbox is feeling forlorn in a pocket.