“You are amazing” Fabio mouths from the audience. His smile runsfrom ear to ear while his hands keeps Ellen safe where she sits onhis shoulders and claps her little hands with great enthusiasm. Shemight not understand why everybody around her are applauding. Butwhen they do, she joins them. She’s adorable in her fluffy, bluedress with her pigtails waving around her head. I cross the stageand accept my diploma from Professor Williams. I see myself reflected in his glassesand now stand in front of my bedroom mirror. I am wearing my uniformfor the very first time. The dress is light, light blue, so light italmost looks white. My name is embroidered above the name of theclinic. A white apron and the traditional white hat complete theensemble. “You can come in now!” I have to twirl and strut around forseveral minutes before Fabio is pleased. Ellen comes running inclutching a toothbrush and a toy syringe. She wants to strut aroundin front of Dad too. “It seems as if there are two dentalnurses in the house now” I laugh and hoist Ellen up and swing heraround until she giggles. The moments become shorter and flash byfaster. I see Ellen’s first day in kindergarten, and her last dayof seventh grade. Ice cream on the beach with Fabio’s parents inhis childhood home in Greece. Ellen moves out and suddenly we’re inthe audience watching her graduate from law school. Scenes fly bylike pictures on a screen and I can’t keep up. It’s too fast. Myfather pass away and my mother join him three years later. I retire.Fabio and I move from London to Woking and take our daily morningwalk. We play chess in the evenings and cook dinner together. We’rea team, a well-oiled machine. I want to pause. To relive every momentfully. I want more. More time. More years. But the pace keeps onincreasing and without warning, I am back in the bedroom and it’stime. I have to leave. Move on to whatever comes next. But I can’t. I won’t do it. I’mnot done. Seventy-three years with Fabio isn’t enough. Anotherhundred years wouldn’t be enough. I want to live forever with him.We haven’t spent more than two weeks apart since he knocked on mydoor that day in London so long ago. He doesn’t know who he iswithout me. I don’t know who I am without him. Panic rise up in mystomach and my heart beats hard in my chest. I didn’t even know itcould. I feel sick. How can this man across the bed from me show methe best and the worst moments of my life and expect me to just moveon? How? Panic turns to anger. White hot fury spreads through myveins. Who the hell does he think he is, this man in his pinstripedsuit? He shows up and takes me on a journey without me asking him to. “Why?”