There's a picture.
Wally's in it.
With three boys and a girl.
He's not really sure who any of them are.
But looking at the girl breaks his heart.
And he doesn't know why.
He's run--now that he knows he can--to the ends of the earth looking for the woman who was once this girl in the blue and red costume. He's found the boys in the picture, but he's not ready to talk to them, yet. Not ready to admit that he's forgotten them.
Forgotten her.
For some reason it seems very important to be able to remember her.
As if his life depends on it.
Or maybe hers.
The weather's turned cold and he gave thanks last week for Linda and for his job and for their health. But now Christmas looms ahead and his shopping list seems much too short, although his memory has yet to tell him why.
He wonders if she's out there and if she has the same picture. He wonders if she remembers. He wonders if she'll appear on his doorstep on Christmas morning, or if she's forgotten him as surely as he's forgotten her.
Her name, he thinks, is Donna.