Charles fumbled through a stack of papers like a child pilfering through a mysterious box of toys. How had he forgotten about these? As he glanced through transcript upon transcript each entry took him to a different place from distant memories. How long has it been since he thought about these things, these places, these times?
His mind floated to when he first met Sarah. She was young then, much more curious about the world than he was. He learned many things about her as their friendship blossomed; she enjoyed the feeling of sand as it trickled through her fingers, she loved to listen to the dance of the small brook as it corralled its way through the rocks and stones beneath the Avenue Street bridge. Her ability to find joy and beauty in the simplest things that life had to offer was what drew him to her in the first place, and it was her willingness and enthusiasm to share these experiences with anyone who would listen which finally made Charles realize that he wanted to be with her for as long he could.
The night wore on as Charles continued to filter through each collection. In a small way he regretted that he had stopped writing, but that was what his life had dictated for him to do.