Stephen Snyder

Though I’ve tried, I’ve found no way to fill in the voids left by the Memory Police.

“I think my mother must have loved the sound of water. Not crashing waves but the gentle flowing of the river—which is probably why she also bought the cottage upstream

The front of the house is along the road to the south, but in back, to the north, it faces the river. The stone foundation was set down into the water, with the house built on top, so the basement is actually below the level of the water.”

my heart feels like a silkworm slumbering in its cocoon

“It could cost you your life itself.”

“The little I have left,”

Once you know, there’s always the chance that the secret will leak out.

the only thing I could see were sheets of rain, obscuring everything—the trees in the yard, the fence, the telephone poles, the sky. Thick, suffocating sheets of rain.

we had things we wanted to say, but it seemed as though something weighed on our chests, preventing the words from coming out the moment we opened our mouths

Memories don’t just pile up—they also change over time. And sometimes they fade of their own accord

“My memories don’t feel as though they’ve been pulled up by the root. Even if they fade, something remains. Like tiny seeds that might germinate again if the rain falls