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I wonder if that’s true of everything and the truth hides somewhere between what we each remember? Reshaping our memories to be what we thought they should. Did I make it better than it was? Did I ever make it worse?
“I was no walk in the park, Merry.” “Who wants to walk in the park? I think that man would run wild with you.”
reshaped by sorrow, reformed by grief, reborn in joy.
We found each other after being separated before. We could do it again and again until time ended, but in this life, I’ll never let go of him.
