Each day is harder than the previous. Soon, she'll just be a theory in his head.Quote:Like abundant leaves on a spreading tree that sheds some and puts forth others, so are the generations of flesh and blood: one dies and another is born.
Every work decays and ceases to exist, and the one who made it will pass away with it.
He brings the fuming mug to his mouth. He ordered a black, the waitress brought him an Oolong. But this is Cortez, and he should be grateful they're open this late in the night. A few patrons are sitting by the counter. The bell rings and a new customer enters. He briefly glances at the shadow. A man? A woman? He's busy losing track in his thoughts. From his booth, the city outside looks suspended in time, quiet. Waiting for the Spring to patch its wounds.