She didn't want to rush him, to push him, but oh, she wanted him to hurry up and get better. She wanted him to know her, to remember the things she'd told him in those letters, things she'd never told anyone. Her dreams, her hopes, her fears, the way she felt about love, and being left behind. All of that was lost and she was scared to have to tell it to him in person, it was so much easier in letters. But she tried to smile when he went on, seeming to remember everything but her. It was slightly devastating but she didn't let it show.

"Maybe if you read some more... wrote down those memories in a journal, that might help, you know?" Maybe piece by piece he'd eventually remember his whole life. "I wish I could help you somehow. I mean... all I can do is answer your questions." And that was unfair, she wished she could do more. She stood up to put the potatoes in the boiling water before starting the oven to reheat the pot roast.