You’re young and beautiful, and you’ve got dozens of men in your future who’ll fall madly in love with you—” “Hundreds. At least.” “—and I’ll be nothing but a distant memory for you. But I’ll still be trying to scrub your face and your taste and your sweet voice from my mind fifty years from now, because I already know nothing else will ever be able to compare to you. Nothing and no one will ever come close.”
