Memory
Sometimes it was remembering everything that killed her.
Sometimes she wished she had a time turner.
Sometimes she wished it had never happened.
Rose stared out across the lake, her arms wrapped around herself.
Sometimes she wondered if she was holding herself together, when she did that.
All the summers that they had spent apart seemed like nothing when compared to this unknown but seemingly endless stretch of time that lie ahead of them.
She didn't want their time together to become a distant memory, but the less time they had, the more it felt like a distinct possibility.