I notice simple things. The way your hands hold the book you are reading, expressions of your face and eagerness in your eyes while you watch the sunset.

Sometimes the sunset is so beautiful, I think it might be the very last one.

And before he left, he said something she could never forget. “You’re like a park bench on an evening of sunset. People come, unload their worries, rest a while and may not even want to leave. But leave they must for the world outside awaits. And you must make peace with it.

Every day, with every sunset and every dawn, I must talk myself out of you.