Of course, back in those days we had no sounds for kisses. You know that shy little wink of sound between you two when you pull apart? It’s so satisfying, sometimes it’s difficult to believe we ever made do without it. But we did, your mother and I – we did for a long time before we met each other, actually. So did everyone. People kissed, sure – it’s absurd to think there was ever a world where people didn’t. But it was a silent kind of touch back then, something soft and sweet and wet – the wetter the better, as a precautionary measure: without a bit of your lover’s saliva to linger on your lips, you ran the risk of forgetting you’d kissed at all. Without some proof to pin down the memory the kiss might fly from your mind, if you were the careless sort like me. Then you’d just be left with the uncomfortable suspicion that you’d just lost something special, never knowing quite what.