It was as if he had seen it only yesterday. Every detail remained sharp inside Morpheus's mind, echoing endlessly, ringing with a persistence that bordered on torment.
It was not a memory that simply lingered. Rather it had clung to him, a memory that refused to fade, a memory that continued to demand its place within him. No, it was not something he could forget, nor something he should ever allow himself to forget.
The image that rose most vividly was Jullie's face on the night she had chosen to leave. That expression, so raw and full of anger, had been carved into his mind deeper than any wound.
She had looked furious, almost feral in her anger, as though she had been hurt far more deeply than he ever was, even though it was him who had been cast aside. Her gaze had burned with accusation, with disappointment, with a grief so sharp it had turned into fury.
