Time jumps. It leaps. It pours away like water through fingers.

The walls are covered -crammed- with writing. No. Not writing. They are covered with a single four-letter word that has been inscribed over and over, on every available surface. Love.

A room full of words that are nearly the truth but not quite, each note fluttering off the steam of its rose like a broken butterfly wing.

I guess there are some things you never get used to.

You see, we didn't know.

She liked that word: we. It sounded warm and open, like a hug.

I love you. They can't take it away.