Their memories are no longer stored in the ravines of their hearts but rather in clouds, visible yet untouchable. Their faces have faded to features, features to silhouettes. Their scrolling conversations float away in bubbles, opened yet unread. They follow paths that only lead to a tomorrow, never a last time. They follow paths that are only created by ones that were once loved, never left behind. Their lives drift through their world till what has been passed is merely what is still passing. Their mark indiscernible from the rest, hidden in sight. They are never remembered, only less forgotten.