My reminiscence. I always thought that for such a lovely river the name is mystifying: “Cape Fear”. When the only thing to fear on those enchanted summer nights was that the magic would end and real life would come crashing in.
If you hold on to the past, you die a little each day…
We never spoke about what happened, at least not to each other. Fear, I suppose, that to remember his name and what he did would mean letting him into our dreams. And me, I hardly dream about him anymore. Still, things won’t ever be the way they were before he came. But that’s alright because if you hang onto the past you die a little every day. And for myself, I know I’d rather live.
The end.
