![]() ![]() ![]() Though he didn’t dwell on those events from long ago, he didn’t avoid thinking about them, either. He turned away from the bedroom doorway and returned to the living room. Should he mention, for instance, that he’d traveled to North Carolina five years ago to investigate a mystery? That he fell in love there, not once but twice that year? Or that the beauty of those memories was intertwined with sadness and that even now he questioned which memories would endure? Though they were true, he sometimes wondered whether he should add something more. Those were answers he would offer when asked. ![]() His name was Jeremy he was forty-two years old, the son of an Irish father and Italian mother and he wrote magazine articles for a living. Who was he then? And who was he now? On the surface, those questions seemed easy. He thought again about the path that had brought them together. Instead he watched as she shifted slightly, his mind drifting to the past. He could use the rest, but he didn’t want to risk falling asleep just yet. As he stared, he thought about lying beside her, if only to have an excuse to shut his eyes. Yet he wasn’t alone, and he pulled himself up from his spot on the couch and walked down the hall to peek in on her. A grayish sheen of fog was visible through the window, and aside from the gentle tap of a branch against the glass, all was quiet. Outside, the winter sun had long since set. Sitting in his living room, he turned the question over in his mind for what seemed to be the hundredth time. ![]()
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