She could no more fill it with food and drink than one can fill an entire living-room with only memories of the departed.
She was becoming translucent, only a faint outline remained barely strong enough to hold in the memories.
In the beginning, many of our days were spent in comfortable silence because I didn’t speak your language and although you spoke mine, you refused to indulge me.
The night began with her scent, faint and distant. Then it surrounded me as I stood in its birthplace.