NovelEnglishGia asked him, “Do you have any photos of Sylvia from when she was a child?”
Gabriel glanced at Sylvia and nodded. “I should. I'll have someone look for them later.”
“Good. Please find them for me,” Gia said, her eyes pleading.
The past twenty years of Sylvia's life were aplete blank to her, and she was desperate to learn more.
The dining table was made of rosewood and had seen many years. Sylvia was seated facing a window, outside of which stood a
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtblooming magnolia tree. As she listened to Old Mr. Quintin and Gia talk, that sfeeling of déja vu washed over her again.
She looked toward the window and asked, “There used to be a flower stand there, with a pastel-colored vase on it, right?”
Both Old Mr. Quintin and Gia were taken aback. Old Mr. Quintin stared at Sylvia in astonishment, his eyes moist. “You
remember?”
Sylvia nodded. “It just seems familiar.”
Gia excitedly gripped her hand. “Yes, there used to be a pastel vase there. Your grandfather would hide candy in it and hold
you up to grab some. Every tyou got one, you would laugh so happily.”
Sylvia smiled faintly. “No wonder | remember it.”
The sense of familiarity brought a touch of warmth and closeness to Sylvia's heart.
*
After lunch, they returned to the living room. Gia asked Sylvia, “Do you remember anything else?”
Sylvia shook her head. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“Letshow you sof the things you played with as a child. Maybe it will jog your memory.” Gia excused herself to the
others and led Sylvia toward the back courtyard.
Don smiled. “Gia is so happy. I've never seen her this happy before!”
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