No. 8

Take notes, she said.
Which he did, mostly because he was sure it was in his job description somewhere, but also because she was woman of notoriously few words and if she was talking, there was something to be learned. He didn't want to miss a thing.
She used to take her own notes, thousands of pages worth, scribbled down in a never ending series of black moleskin books that she kept in a sloppy pile by her bed. On her worst days she would lock herself in her room and sit cross-legged on the floor reading through each book, trying to connect the dots of her life. Now, she had him do it for her.