I watched as Henry wet his lips and stared into his hands, clasped so tightly they had turned white.
Waiting for the proper words to form on his lips he stood in complete and utter despair hoping, wishing with the entirety of his being that he could come up with the right words to say.
Slowly raising his eyes to the memory that stood before him begging to be noticed, he spoke,
“My first memory of Anna was in kindergarten. I had never seen someone so beautiful, so…happy. She was laughing, laughing the kind of unrestrained, life filled, sheer, unadulterated, laugh of a child. It was the beginning of autumn and the fading light was filtering through the still-green trees. Her blond hair capturing the light, mussed, frizzy, and dirt-filled, was like a halo surrounding her.
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