And I found then, that wandering the halls of my own memory was like unto an expedition into caverns of glass. Every facet a memory, and by placing a hand thereupon I could relive it in all the detail that the fading of time had left to me. From the brutal pain of having the wind knocked out of me as a child, to the inimitable boredom of a long bus ride, it was all there.

I had only just begun my search when my hand grazed, unintentionally, over my first heartbreak. Even after the assuage of decades, the hurt was so intense that I could only fall to the floor with a choked sob.

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