"He turned on his bedside lamp to look at the faded roses of the wallpaper, then turned it off again. In the darkness he got up and stretched out on the sofa beneath the windows, which he sometimes did when he couldn't sleep. He might tiptoe across the landing, as once or twice he had, to gaze down at the soft fair hair spread on the pillow, eyes gently closed. But tonight he didn't.
He dozed, quite easily in the end, and then in some Italian church the woman sacristan read the evening lesson. In the shaded corner of the piazza men played cards. 'Love is greedy when it is starved,' Heloise reminded him when they walked across the difficult paving. 'Don't you remember, Everard? Love is beyond all reason when it is starved.'"
-The Story of Lucy Gault
Memory
I did not want to see him after the year had passed what I feared most was losing the memory of him the second I saw the real him and that memory would be erased, forever gone, lost and re-catalogued with his new face, new hair, new mannerisms I knew that this newly catalogued man would not be the memory of the man I loved.
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