He knew what it was. When he looked at his impossible girl, he new. For a long time, he wondered why every thought, every look, would lead back to her, to Clara. She seemed to plague him, everything about her seemed so familiar, too wonderful to be true. She seemed to be the essence of a being that was now no more than a ghost. He would catch himself gazing at her, trying to understand what it was about her that drove him mad. It was if she had two faces, one that was physical and could be easily seen, but another lay underneath, hiding, teasing him. She was like a memory he had forgotten, for that was what she was. A memory she alone made him think of, one that was under lock and key. But that day, when she turned to him and laughed and smiled in a way that made his hearts ache, yet leap with sudden excitement, he knew. Clara reminded him of her. Clara was the memory of the girl with the sunshine smile, a heart so full of life and love, with an adventurous spirit, and eyes that will forever stay in his minds eye. It was her, he knew that now, it was Rose. Whenever his gaze happened upon Clara, it was Rose he saw. Identical they were, the same want of adventure, the same passion, it was her. It was alway like that in the end, always ending up in the same memory, no matter how hard he tried to run from it. In the end he always ended up in the same place. In the end, it was, and would always be, Rose.
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