The Life of a Spy

Men are easy to kill; believe me, I know. Prisons, for the most part, are easy to escape. And if you’re good at what you do, missions become fairly straightforward. Memories, though, are none of those things. They’re like water. They flow around, seemingly at random. One connection leads to another in a stream of consciousness. Your mind can be soothing, a place of refuge. But in an instant it can become a grave. Unbidden, sensations crush in around you. A familiar scent. An image, burned into your mind. Someone who laughs the way she did. Memory can drown you.