The MemorialHundreds came to Anna’s memorial, the crowd flowing into the street. Inventor Call and I stood together at the ceremony. He wore dark spectacles, yet it couldn’t hide the wetness of his cheeks. “She knew everyone, loved everyone. My only regret in life is not marrying her.”
At her graveside, after most had gone, I asked about their betrothal.
He sounded old, tired. “It was sixty years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Her hair was dark and her skin smooth, but she really never changed in all that time,” he tapped his chest, “not inside. She said she wouldn’t have it. Not me, you understand. She said she was quite fond of me. But marriage? No. She felt it beneath any woman to be ... how did she put it? ‘Chained to a man.’“ He shook his head. “But I never stopped lo
