You can't hang on to anything in the end.
Celia told me the story again. She says she's told me many times, since it happened.
I'm typing as fast as I can, to get it down before it fades.
One day, the last day we walked together, Celia stumbled off the trail, and landed in a green place. Tall strangers fed her herbs, and gave her sweet water. They told her she was theirs.
I don't remember that. I remember pulling her out of the mud, where she had fallen. A simple act.
According to Celia, it was a promise.