Where does a story truly begin? In life, there are seldom clear-cut beginnings, those moments when we can, in looking back, say that everything started. Yet there are moments when fate intersects with our daily lives, setting in motion a sequence of events whose outcome we could never have foreseen
— Nicholas Sparks; A Bend in the Road
New Bern was haunted now. Haunted by the ghost of her memory. He saw her in Fort Totten Park, their place, every time he walked by. Either sitting on the bench or standing by the gate, always smiling, blond hair softly touching her shoulders, her eyes the color of emeralds. When he sat on the porch at night with his guitar, he saw her beside him, listening quietly as he played the music of his childhood. He felt the same when he went to Gaston’s Drug Store, or to the Masonic theater,or
even when he strolled downtown. Everywhere he looked, he saw her image, saw things that brought her back to life. —
even when he strolled downtown. Everywhere he looked, he saw her image, saw things that brought her back to life. —
Nicholas Sparks; The Notebook.
Post-ninja-syndrome.
