"Doesn't it bring back painful memories?" Max asked.
"Memories, but not painful ones," Kara responded.
The music prelude softly filled the car, and the memories that flooded in were almost unbearably painful, sharp with thoughts of what might have been.
Max had taken her to a concert at a country house near Greenwood Pack, where they had met. They had walked along the terrace to the sound of the prelude.
"Can you remember?" he asked her suddenly.
She kept her eyes closed, because otherwise the tears would have escaped, and answered.
"The centenary concert," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
On the excuse of looking out at the undulating countryside, she turned her head and stealthily wiped her eyes.
"You were wearing a dress that same color," he said, taking a hand off th
