Chapter 43For true love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. And if you go to draw at the true fountainhead, the more water you draw, the more abundant is its flow.
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Peter awakens, eyes not yet open. He remembers sensing the love of his life stroking him adoringly, fondly, passionately. Ready to be with him for eternity. But the fog he has known until recently still surrounds him. He cannot think straight. His head hurts and his body is fatigued.
His eyes attempt to open in vain, yelling as he tries to budge his eyelids. He peeps through the small slit he is able to muster between the screaming lids. He is not in Zara’s room. He is not in Zara’s brother’s room.
No. It can’t be. Is he still in his room in San Francisco? It wasn’t just a dream,
