He thought again of the soldier. “The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain.
It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.”
“I’ve started to share them with you,” Jonas said, trying to cheer him.
That’s true. And having you here with me over the past year has made me realize that things must change.
For years I’ve felt that they should, but it seemed so hopeless.
“Now for the first time I think there might be a way,” The Giver said slowly.
“And you brought it to my attention, barely—” He glanced at the clock. “two hours ago.”
Jonas watched him, and listened. It was late at night, now. They had talked and talked.
Jonas sat wrapped in a robe belonging to The Giver, the long robe that only Elders wore.
It was possible, what they had planned. Barely possible. If it failed, he would very likely be killed.
But what did that matter? If he stayed, his life was no longer worth living.
“Yes,” he told The Giver. “I’ll do it. I think I can do it. I’ll try, anyway.
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