“Why did you want to know?” He grins. “Because you have to hold on to those good memories just as hard as the bad ones. They exist too. Right alongside the bad. They’re yours as much as all the awful, shitty ones are.” I raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by the depth and insightfulness of the statement. “Wow. That’s very Zen of you,” I tease. “You’re like a psychotic, murderous Winnie the Pooh.”
