Salt and Water.

The scent of salt hangs in the air around us, even now nights past our return. I, of course, bathed immediately upon our return. I cannot tolerate being filthy. She may not know this, but I change our pillows and furs out regularly; leaving them to burn with the vile reminders of savages and dogs. Fortunately, there is an elderly woman in Milltown that makes the same exact pillow, at least in pattern and design, that I can purchase more from. I wonder if her vision has left her, or if she is merely disinclined to attempt a new look for her plush goods.

After visiting her family, I've found attempting to recall my own on a few quiet occasions. It seems to creep up on me, the memories. I notice soon enough and dispel the thoughts from my mind, choosing to focus, instead, upon that which matters most to me now.

Keeping a starfish alive out of the salt and the water.