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The library had been like finding cool water in the midst of a desert, a refuge, and the books inside, her escape.
Once, he said that being married to her was like being married to a favorite TV show and he always enjoyed the programming.
She had retorted that being married to him was like being married to an audience of one.
No sense freezing our tushes off for history’s sake.
She heard his laughter in the whine of the teakettle, the pop of the fire, the creak of the old wood floors, and in the saltiness of tears that ran unchecked down her face.
They’d all let something control their lives. And for Nora it had been her fear that if she didn’t hold on tight enough, fight hard enough, sacrifice enough, she’d lose Mario. Yet none of it had mattered. Mario’s battles were his own.
He wasn’t there, but she didn’t mind carrying his voice in her head. It reminded her of who she was now.
