That's Why We Have Memory. And The

The Shadows Of The Room Pool In The Lines Of Our Faces, Draining Our Eyes Of Hue. "there's Nothing Left Worth Saying.

She Hugs Me. It's Tentative At First, A Little Scared, And Yes, A Little Repulsed, But Then She Melts Into It. She Rests Her Head Against My Cold Neck And Embraces Me. Unable To Believer What's Happening, I Put My Arm Around Her And Just Hold Her. I Almost Swear I Can Feel My Heart Thumping. But It Must Just Be Hers, Pressed Tightly Against My Chest.

Writing Isn't Letters On Paper. It's Communication. It's Memory.

Maybe This Is Why I Sleep Only A Few Hours A Month. I Don't Want To Die Again. This Has Become Clearer And Clearer To Me Recently, A Desire So Sharp And Focused I Can Hardly Believe It's Mine: I Don't Want To Die. I Don't Want To Disappear. I Want To Stay.

Just... Ate," M Says, Frowning At Me A Little. "two Days...ago." I Grab My Stomach Again. "feel Empty. Feel... Dead." He Nods. "marr...iage.