There is nothing like memory to keep me company on these nights when I can't sleep. Memories of a first love lost, regained, lost again. Memories of a new love, a lost love, and wondering if there is still a chance for it to live again. Or is it as dead and buried as the casualties of the war that ripped us apart?
I don't know. The loss of a first love, I can understand. I lived through it once. I can live through it again. It's the last love that makes me wonder. There won't be another like Worf.
