Chris's dreams always contained that slender and beautiful figure and the vast expanses of Casablanca. He called him "Fried" and he called him Schiff.
Every time Sif saw the flowers blooming in the courtyard, he would think of his Fried. He told him that without him, he would die, but he still disappeared, and when he reappeared, his name was Chris.
Ten years is neither long nor short, but the fragrance lingering in my heart never dissipates...