Time heals most wounds, they say. Soon the hospital where I was orphaned becomes just another building on the way from somewhere to somewhere else. The other day, I saw the doctor who pronounced you dead. He seemed like any other doctor in a white lab coat. For me, he was the last man to touch your living body. He could not have imagined, if he had seen me too, the memory of him that I will forever hold in my mind. Time heals most wounds, they say. I wonder if it’s true. The scars run so deep and wide, I can’t let go of you.