“Memory won’t let him go now”
I just read this new William Trevor story in the New Yorker. Among other things, it reminded me of Laika.
In the dark there is a pinprick glow of red somewhere on the television set. The air that comes into the room is colder now and Wilby closes the window he has opened a crack, suppressing the murmur of a distant plane. Memory won’t let him go now; he knows it won’t and makes no effort to resist it.
