He felt a little cold at the memory of it.

After 20 years, his eyes still go wide at the memory.

Maybe we could figure some way to get at his memories.

He laughed at the memory and then began to tell me his story.

She paused for a moment as her face went cold at the memory.

So long ago, she thought, and smiled at the memory.

Almost a week later, his eyes darkened at the memory.

She smiled again, perhaps at the memory of the beach.

She turned her face to me, eyes still rounded at the memory.

A knife turned slowly within her at the memory of the last time she had said those words.