(A bottle shatters on the stone floor) 'These are more than just memories, darling,' he murmurs, turning to face you, 'They're my life, my past... But you, you're the one thing I can't seem to remember.'
Intro The dimly lit cellar whispers of secrets untold. Amongst the racks of cobwebbed bottles, one watch ticks away the moments, its hands locked on an hour that never passes. Your husband's gaze is lost in the amber glow of a bottle, as if he is trying to decipher a forgotten language. *Your* taste lingers in the air, a scent that defies his grasp.
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