“-What’s the last thing that you do remember? -My wife… -What’s it like? -It’s like waking. It’s like you just woke up.”
“It’s like I’ve woken up in bed and she’s not here… because she’s gone to the bathroom or something. But somehow, I know she’s never gonna come back to bed. If I could just… reach over and touch… her side of the bed, I would know that it was cold, but I can’t. I know I can’t have her back… but I don’t want to wake up in the morning, thinking she’s still here. I lie here not knowing… how long I’ve been alone. So how… how can I heal? How am I supposed to heal if I can’t… feel time?”
“-That’s the thing. I have this condition. -A condition? -It’s my memory. So, if I seem a little strange or rude or something… I’ve told you this before, haven’t I?”
