imagine: it’s 2065 and you’re a grandma/grandpa. you’re sitting at home on a warm summers evening watching the news when the head line ‘BREAKING NEWS: Harry Styles passed away at age 71’ your heart stops. this means all of them are gone. every member of one direction. gone.

without saying anything you flick off the tv and slowly walk climb the steps to your attic. you rummage around until you find them. the boxes, the containers, the posters. you sit down and all the memories come flooding back to you. the jokes. the songs. the interviews.

the shows. the first tear leaves your eye and glides down your cheek. more keep coming. and then. you see it. the dolls. you bite your lip as you pick up the dolls. niall, harry, louis, liam, zayn. you hold them tight to your chest as you sit there silently, tears falling down

your cheeks onto your knees. you go through the posters that where once plastered over your bedroom walls; 50 something years ago. you find the purfumes you had, the old t shirts, jumpers, you find a pile of pictures you had printed out of them. you find your ticket you got,

for their reunion tour in 2020. and then you remeber, you went to their final show. the last one they ever did. you remeber how you and your best friend cried the whole show. you slowly make your way back to your living room and turn ‘THIS IS US’ on the tv. you sit and sing

along to all the songs they sing. you laugh at the jokes they make, and of course; cry when zayn buys his mother a lovely house. when the credits start you turn it off. you rummage in your bedroom and then find it, your record player from when you where a teenager. you set it

up and go back up to the attic. you firstly put on your old treat people with kindness sweater, it’s a little snug, but it will do. you find all the vinyls you had of them. you didn’t manage to find them all though, you decide to bring down ‘four’ becsuse it was one of

your favourites. you adjust it on the player and it starts playing. you sit down. and sing along to every song. by the end, your jumper is covered in tears and you probably look a mess; but you don’t care. your favourite boys, your first loves, the people who where once

your only source of happiness are gone, all of them are gone. but you smile, thinking that they’re all togehter now. all of them are with their parents now. you then lack everything up, and take one last look at your beloved dolls, ‘goodbye boys, i’ll love you forever’ you manage

to get out of your shaking mouth, before you close the box and close the attic.