I’m remembering him again. Tonight I remembered his voice. I could remember how he said my name and would call me Camila Khanoom, Camila Queen. I could remember his kiss. I could remember his smile.
As we wandered around today, every step brought another memory. A time, a look, a kiss, and then finally his voice.
I’m the one wandering around with a random tear in my eye, as I generally appear to be working just like everyone else.
Except I’m thinking of my murdered love and remembering his life that was too precious for words.