Chapter Five: Editing Love

The vaulted ceiling returned his words in a faint echo. Lin Wan understood why he had chosen this place: an echo proved something had been said even when memory refused to testify. “You made it ask the question on the third page?” “I wrote: If she tries to decide my love again, first let her know that I already know.” “What did it cost?” “The first concert my father taught me to listen to.” He paused. “At least I know I've forgotten it.” The book had not taken only from her. In the control room, dozens of notes covered one wall in his handwriting: Lin Wan dislikes raspberries. She does not want to be held when grieving. When she says it doesn't matter, it usually does.