"I looked toward the garden and saw a lady in splendid attire, her radiance outshining the branches beneath the summer sun, her beauty more delicate than the lilies of May..."
"What are you muttering about? What 'lady' and 'lilies'?" Feld turned around, curiously craning his neck to peek at the booklet. He had good reason to suspect his companion was hiding something interesting from him.
The stubborn mule once again dragged a wheel into a rut. The two of them bounced up and down like beans in a frying pan, their hips and thighs taking a painful battering.
"Damn it, Feld, I never should've brought you along!"
Dominic lay sprawled among the scattered goods, wishing he could slap his morning self twice. How had he ever believed this guy's claim that he could drive a cart? Who knew if he'd just made it up for an excuse to get out.
The short poem he'd just remembered vanished without a trace after that jolt. His mind went blank, save for the blood rushing to his head.
He tried hard to recall the lines around it, but got nowhere. He could remember only a few scraps, fluttering away like a flock of pigeons the moment his thoughts drew near, leaving behind no sign of them but a feather or two.
"So what exactly were you muttering about?"
"Just a poem." Dominic realized he was about to lose it. He'd copied it from a poetry collection he'd borrowed from the Dunling library, but now both the words and the memory were growing hazy. He might never get the chance to recover them.
Just like the feeling that had slipped away moments ago, people were always losing things forever without even noticing. The sense of that irretrievable loss left him feeling a little down.