The wind blew hard today as I was coming home from the grocery store. Richard had said earlier, only Elizabeth knew how to teach him how to use the computer. She was slow, and patient, and understood how much time he needed. She was also spirited and she loved the wind. Tonight I felt the wind go right through me, and I thought it might be her reminding me to pay attention.

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How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry