The piano was more difficult to play now, certain chords would go missing….
The same with photographs. Some faces were familiar…others were blackened with ash and she didn’t know them…
Some days she felt like everything was good. She really had a hold on things.
Other days, she would be given a journal
And expected to write…
But the pages were burning
The words were missing…
The safest place was the window on those days.
To just sit and look outside….
She could remember some things…
But it was all the new faces that frightened her.
The new town….
Other days she would work on her next detective novel…
But she always felt, trapped,inside a burning house
And couldn’t shake the feeling,time was running out.
But then, she had felt like this since her early twenties.
Now she was…she was…
Regarding Samuel 