Henri walked this path thousands of times – and yet today he would walk it for the first time. Were those rosemary bushes always there? he wondered as he neared the bend. For the past 23 years he had strolled this path every day with Gabrielle in his arms. They talked of the little things that happened during the day – inconsequential things really – but their time together was never about the conversation anyway, Henri began to realize. Now, left to his solitude he found himself disoriented with his surroundings – the path seemed foreign to him. He suddenly found it hard to imagine his life without Gabrielle.
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