He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
I love her dearly, but I can’t live with her for a day without feeling my whole life is wasting away. — Miss Kenton, The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
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