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I was still there, in the kitchen, but now Dr. Nash was standing in front of me, and Amanda was just a few steps away from him, and they were all looking at me with worried and upset expressions on their faces. I realized that I had broken the glass. Chrissy. Dr. Nash said, "Chrissy, are you okay?" I didn't answer. I don't know what it feels like. This is the first time -- from what I remember -- that I remember my husband. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the picture again. I tried to see the fish, the wine, my husband with his beard, naked, his penis moving up and down, but nothing. Memories have evaporated without a trace, as if they had never existed or had been burned into a light smoke by reality. Yes I said, "I'm fine.". I "What's the matter?" Amanda said, "Are you okay?" "I remember something." I say. I saw Amanda put her hand over her mouth quickly,347 stainless steel, and the expression on her face became very happy. Really She said, "Great!"! What? What do you remember? "Don't worry." Said Dr. Nash, coming to take my arm, the broken glass crunching under his feet. My husband. I said, "Here it is.". I think of my husband — Amanda's face pulled down. That's it? She seems to be saying. Dr. Nash? I said,uns c68700, "I think of Ben!" I started to shake. All right Dr. Nash said, "Good!"! Very nice They led me to the living room together. I sat down on the sofa and Amanda handed me a cup of hot tea and a biscuit on a plate. She doesn't understand, I think. She can't understand. I remember Ben, I remember myself when I was young, I remember the two of us together. I know we love each other very much, and I don't have to rely on his words to believe that anymore. It's important. She won't understand how important it is. On the way home, I felt very excited, because I was nervous and energetic and glowing. I looked out the window at the world — the strange, mysterious, unfamiliar world — in which I saw not a threat, but an opportunity. Dr. Nash told me he thought we had a real breakthrough. He seems very excited. That's good, Carrara Marble Slab ,x56 line pipe, he kept saying. That's nice. I don't know if he's saying it's good for me or it's good for him, it's certainly good for his career. He said he wanted to arrange a scan and I said yes almost without thinking. He also gave me a mobile phone and told me that his girlfriend had used it. It looks different from the one Ben gave me. This one is smaller, with the flip open to reveal the keyboard and screen. No one uses it anyway, he said. You can call me anytime, whenever it's important. Take it with you, and I'll call you on this phone to remind you of the log. That was a few hours ago. Now I realize he sent me his phone so Ben wouldn't know he was calling me. If I call you one day and Ben answers, it might be awkward. This will make things easier. I didn't ask much and took the phone. I remembered Ben. I remembered that I loved him. He'll be home soon. Maybe later, when we go to bed, I'll make up for last night. I feel alive and full of possibilities. Chapter 2.4 Tuesday, November 13 This is the afternoon. Soon we will come home from another day's work. I sat with my journal in front of me. Someone-Dr Nash-called me at lunchtime to tell me where I could find it. I was sitting in the living room when he called, and at first I didn't believe he knew who I was. Looking at the shoebox in the closet, he finally said. You will find a book. I didn't believe him, but he never hung up while I was going through the shoebox, and he was right. My journal is there, wrapped in tissue paper. I took it out as if I were holding something fragile. As soon as I said goodbye to Dr. Nash, I knelt by the wardrobe and read it. Every word. I'm nervous, though I don't know why. In my mind, the journal was contraband and dangerous, though perhaps only because I had apparently been very careful in hiding it. From time to time, I looked up from the log again and again to see the time. Whenever there was a sound of a car outside the house, I quickly closed the log and put it back in the tissue paper.
But now I'm at peace. I'm sitting on the ledge of my bedroom window, writing in my journal. I don't know why, but there is a familiar feeling here, as if I often sit in this place. I could see down the street, one end of which led to a row of tall trees, with a faint view of the park behind them, and the other end to a row of houses and a busier street. I realized that although I had decided to keep the log secret from Ben, nothing terrible would happen if he found out. He's my husband. I can trust him. I read again the passage in my journal describing my journey home yesterday, and the excitement I felt at that time has disappeared. Now I feel content and calm. Cars streamed past. Occasionally someone walks by, one moment a man whistling, or a young mother taking her child to the park and then leaving. In the distance, a plane was descending to the ground, looking almost motionless. The house opposite was empty, and the street was quiet except for the whistling man and an unhappy dog. The early morning commotion fades away as doors close,316ti stainless steel, people say goodbye, and the engine starts to form a symphony. I feel like I'm alone. It's starting to rain. Big raindrops splashed on the window in front of me and hung for a moment, and then the raindrops wrapped up with them and began to slide slowly down the pane. I put a hand on the cold glass. I've been cut off from the rest of the world long enough. forustone.com