Henri

I think of him sometimes, even after all these years. I remember his blonde hair, and his blue eyes and I cry. I cry because I had loved him, with all my heart and soul, and because of all the things that had happened to us, to my family, to my people, to the world. I cry because of the pain, the memories and the loss. But mostly, I cry because he had loved me back.

And that had been the most terrible tragedy of all.