Colors brightened like on mescaline around him, everything was funnier; life took on an arpeggio of mariachi harps. The world smelled of hot wildflowers on hay rides. Life without him was inconceivable, even though he was inconceivable, with his name and his hatred of old diamonds. Except very large old diamonds. He used to stare at me with worshipful admiration. Practically like I was a new diamond myself.
