The ice was slippery. Her paws kept splaying outwards until the cold of the ice on her belly made her tiptoe back up to her full height . . . Someone on the bridge threw a lump of coal at her. It skidded across the whiteness, leaving a black trail, then plopped into a fissure: the ice was breaking up.'
Memories define us. So what if you lost yours every time you went to sleep? Your name, your identity, your past, even the people you love - all forgotten overnight. And the one person you trust may only be telling you half the story. Welcome to Christine's life.