She realized that the photograph had caused his reaction. It came to her almost as a revelation. Think of it: a photographer presses a button. A few hours later and half a world away, some dots of ink...
Death wasn't a movie where the pretty star faded away with a touch of pale makeup and every hair in place.
I'm like my mother, she thought, I search my joy for signs of sorrow ahead.
The end came as dusk fell on a gloomy winter day of cold rain.
Well, memory can play tricks. Most people, I think, tend to remember the good rather than the bad when someone close to them dies.
But things change, people change, Gaby. Otherwise what would be the point of living?
Was it always to be like this? she wondered. A moment of joy followed by a new sorrow?
