What is it to become memory?
She left this morning, and today I find myself in a field on a trail at the end of a trail running west, and the evening is approaching. Light glows on the horizon in tangerine and the softest of lemons, and the light on the earth gives way to shadows stretching long toward the east and the memory of morning. This is the first sunset she has missed. The light fades, but in the darkness…
