“Butterflies would float up from our eyelashes. The
butterflies would turn from white cocoons to purple-winged creatures. The air would become purple, and all of a sudden, the butterflies would etch their
shadows across the ceiling. They would swarm into my brain and suck out every memory of us that I have. Then, I would be left with this one moment of us in this room, replaying itself like a still film frame over and over again.”