(no subject)
The pain won't ever go away, will it? He asked himself. Again he saw her in his mind, and for a brief, cruel second, he told himself - lied, knowing it even as it happened - that she was beside him, sitting there on the passenger seat. But it wasn't her, never would be again. His hands tightened on the plastic of the steering wheel, the knuckles suddenly white as he commanded himself to set it aside. Such thoughts were like minefields. You wandered into them, innocent, expecting nothing, then found out too late that there was danger. It would be better not to remember, he thought. I'd really be better off that way. But without memories, good and bad, what was life, and if you forgot those who mattered to you, then what did you become? It was so hard on him to remember, but remembering was all he could do. He saw her everywhere he went. Heard her gentle voice just around every corner. It broke his heart.