“In the early morning hours, Hannah read at the table by the dim light of dawn. She leaned in close to the pages, chin resting on her folded arms, eyes racing over the words, like chasing butterflies over the hills, to catch as many as she could before going to work. She wondered at how such tales of magic could be contained by mere paper and ink for her to read again and again.”

“I hate them!' she cried. 'It's not fair!''No, it isn't,' Frederick said gently.'I can't do it all!''No. You can't.' After a long moment he said, 'But you can do what you can.''And what if that isn't enough?'Frederick held her shoulders and took a step back. He looked in her eyes. 'Enough for what?''For my family.''What more could they ask for than what you've given?”

“Sharing his memories felt like handing over a sharp knife. A knife that others might handle carelessly. A knife that could be used to hurt him.”

“The hours trampled her on their way through the day.”

“Clockwork could not run counter to its nature. The seconds, minutes, and hours moved only forward. Patient, precise, and unstoppable. Memory was an indulgence, an illusion that broke like a wave upon the juggernaut of time. The past remained the past.”

“Giuseppe would miss them as well, but in a different way than he would miss the city. A city would stay the same. The same buildings. The same streets. Not forever, but for a great long while. But Frederick and Hannah would never again be the people they were right now, standing on the dock, wishing him farewell. Tomorrow they would wake up and be a little bit different and a little bit different the day after that, and in no time they might become people he did not recognize. Giuseppe knew it because they were already different from when he had first met them. He knew it because he was different from when they had first met him.”

“It was his fault too,” Fredrick said. “He never really asked her why. It was like he didn’t want to know.”