She picked up a fallen flower and cupped it in her hands. “Life is so sad,” she said. “Nothing lasts.”

“I wish this time would never go away,” she said softly.

THE GIRL WITH NO NAME BY LAWRENCE F FARRAR 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17

I’ve heard it said that memory retains the things that count. Yet, more than fifty years later, I can’t remember her name. I’m not even certain if I ever knew what it was. Nor can I really recall what she looked like, try as …