We were convinced we were on the right side of history, but what does it matter when no one remembers the past?

Sitting at a bar by himself on his  50th birthday, Dave wondered where the fame and fortune were and whether any of his half-finished novels contained the seeds of the masterpiece he knew he could write someday.

As consciousness faded, her last coherent memory was of the doctor's Cheshire cat smile.

After the symposium they got drunk on ouzo and discussed their favorite founding fathers.

"I recalled my childhood -- the mornings spent walking the hills at one with the world -- and longed for that feeling again," he told me as we sat in his tiny cabin in the woods.

Walking past a house he saw an old man in a window and was shocked when he realized it was his own reflection in the glass.

Windshield wipers clicked out a rhythm for the hum of the long dark road.