The Last Conversation (Forward Collection, #5)

by Paul Tremblay

You pause, your frustration and mistrust melt away as you lose yourself in the undeniable pleasure of remembering. It is a pleasure because you have images now associated with these memories. The disjointed way in which the images appear in your head feels natural, authentic. While you can’t know if these images are actual memories or embellishments, or a little of both, it doesn’t matter. They are yours. They belong to you and they branch away into an infinite network of new ones. These memories are proof of you, and someday soon you won’t need or rely on Anne to define you.

Maybe your memories are creating themselves; like the solar array and wind turbines, your memories are becoming self-sufficient.

“There were times when we were all those things. Right now, we’re partners.”

You consider the origin of this time during which you’ve been awake and not-awake and conclude it is, for the moment, unknowable.