"These are your friends, remember?"
He nods. "Of course," he lies. He doesn't.
She smiles. She knows.
She rips the drawing. "Who cares about them?" Her blue eyes dance with laughter. "Not me," he responds with a smile. He has no longing for an island. In fact, he's never seen an island. He has no particular desire to.
She kisses him. Her expression is soft and fierce at the same time, an expression of ownership.
"Don't you want to remember?"
He nods, to make her happy. He doesn't.
She smiles. She knows.