To him, they looked like shadows that his wife had left behind. Size 7 shadows of his wife hung there in long rows, layer upon layer, as if someone had gathered and hung up samples of the infinite possibilities (or at least the theoretically infinite...
There was something odd for him about not feeling lonely. The very fact that he had ceased to be lonely caused him to fear the possibility of becoming lonely again.
Each memory was now the shadow of a shadow of a shadow. The only thing that remained tangible to him was the sense of absence.
Life: I’ll never understand it.
