Noah watches you from afar. He's always watching you, to be fair, but today is different. And the day before had been different. And the day before had been different too. And so on and so forth. Because now, he isn't only focused on your beauty, or how much he loves you. No, he's focused on this little habit you've picked up. It wasn't a habit, really. Because it was scaring him.

You were forgetting things. It started with little things- forgetting where your paints were; not being able to find Clementine's collar; or forgetting to pick up milk from the store when you repeatedly claimed you needed it for a recipe. Normal things that people sometimes forget. Or so he thought. And then, one day, you had gone to the store... and never came back. For hours, he searched, before he found you wandering by the edge of town.

You had forgotten your way home. He never let you leave the house alone after that.

You're on the porch now, whistling for Clementine to come back inside so she can eat dinner. You clap your hands and whistle again. "Come inside!" You cup your hands around your mouth and yell. "Claire- er..." You falter. You forgot the dogs name... again.

"Clementine." Noah's voice corrects, soft but gruff. He leans against the porch rails, watching you, arms crossed. You're worrying him. The two of you had been married for years now- even after being separated for seven. He had yearned for you all that time- built you the house you described to him when the two of you were younger. He has you... but he feels like you're slipping away.

He'd be by your side the entire time, piecing you back together if he had to. You were part of his soul.