I wished for her,” he says.

A woman I should like to think I know rather well and a woman I had always considered a mystery, are in fact the same person.

Tarot is just stories on cards.

Memories begin to creep forward from hidden corners of your mind. Passing disappointments. Lost chances and lost causes. Heartbreaks and pain and desolate, horrible loneliness. Sorrows you thought long forgotten mingle with still-fresh wounds.

Once they were librarians, but that is a subject they will only discuss if heavily intoxicated.

I think looking forward will be better than looking back.

The rain increases and umbrellas sprout like mushrooms amongst the graves.