The high school

Translation: Jannah Adel, Fatima Al Zahra I do not only remember my wedding. I remember the fight over the cake design. I remember the smallest details of our house. Our son. Every moment of his birth. His laughter. The mole on his left cheek. His first day at school and how he didn't want me to leave him. But when I try to picture in my mind Sam, he is in black and white. No color in his eyes. I tell myself they were blue. And I see only black. All my memories in this life are in shades of gray, like still shots in "film noir." They seem real, but they are haunted memories. And she collapses crying: Everyone thinks that false memory syndrome is just false memories of big moments in your life, but what hurts much more are the small moments. I do not only remember my husband, but I remember the smell of his breath in the morning when he was tossing and facing me in bed. And how every time he got up before me to brush his teeth, I knew he would go back to bed and try to make love. Those are the things that kill me. The smallest complete details that make me know that this happened. Barry asks her: And what about this life? Is it worth anything to you?