revisiting the familiar

I don’t remember why we ended up there.
Was it the café I had saved for years,
or the vinyl you were hoping to find?

A flash of red caught our eyes.
You said, “That’s the scene.”
We only had black and white film—
but you pressed the shutter anyway.

I thought it would take forever to find that house again.
But it was right there,
quiet on a hill.

The decor had changed.
The red lamp wasn’t lit this time.

The lightbox on the main street had been replaced.
The shop had closed.

But the two chairs still sit by the red door.
Only now,
we’re no longer there.