"Yes, actually. I've been married for three years now, actually."
"And I write to my wife, near everyday." I said.

"You have a, a wife?"

"She was the daughter of some cunty mender, who owned a little hobble on the corner. The eunuch prick always had it out for me, hated me with unreal passion."

"So you love her then?"

"Well..."
"Sometimes, it's hard to say. It's that... it's that I really... I really don't feel, sometimes. I never feel anymore. Does-does that make any sense?"

"I think I know what you are saying." He said.

"I don't know, really. It keeps me up at night, every time I try to sleep. My heart gets heavy when I try to remember how certain emotions felt once, like... like it's trying to sink but,  but my mind won't let it... I don't know. It's too difficult to explain what I'm trying to convey. Have you ever gone through an old attic that once belonged to you, and found a wooden box of everything you used to own as a boy? Ever felt that before? Finding every single thing that made you, you. It all finally came to that point. And your heart is drawing little maps in the sand, showing you what you've been missing all of those lonely years? All those toys and marbles..."
"It's like that, what I'm trying to say."
"Except your heart can't find the box, and you try to remember what you had left in it, anyways. Because some days, it's all you want to live for, and some times, it's all you ever even have. To try and remember those stupid little things that made you. That's what love feels like to me; it doesn't feel like anything.

"I'm..... I'm sorry, I really am."

"It's hell having to write 'love, Amadeus' at the end of every single paper when it doesn't mean a single damn thing to you. And everyone in my village gathers around my house to hear what I've written to her."

"You aren't happy with your love-life, then." He said.

I laughed quietly to myself.

"... you know, everyday... every single day, I've sat a bit, thinking about the children who sit around my little wooden cot's window, listening to her read my letters from across the world, halfway across the earth; and I can not even stand to wonder if I had gone wrong in saying 'I do.'"

We were quiet for a moment.

"I hope you find peace with yourself, Knight Amadeus."

"So do I."