Chapter 8

He flung his arm over his head and buried his face in the muscle. He breathed in the scent of his own skin, of day-old sweat, and willed the process to wipe the remaining dream fragments out of his mind. So many years forgotten; did it really only take one moving image and a couple of moments of the man’s voice to bring everything back? It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t be so hard to forget, and yet so easy to fall back into remembering.

You had everything. Everything you’d ever wanted and more than anyone could need. But that was the problem, wasn’t it, Mark? You could never make yourself understand there was a difference between those things. That want wasn’t need by any means, and need could never be want.