"So, are you getting old and becoming forgetful?"
Cinderella rolled around on Ewen's bed, making the freshly made sheets wrinkle.
"I'm not forgetful, just have too many thoughts that need sorting and recording." Ewen sat with his back to her by the window, writing densely in his notebook.
"An excuse," Cinderella lifted her head, "If you lose your notebook, won't that be catastrophic?"
Ewen seemed indifferent, "Lost? If it's lost, it's lost, no big deal."
"Huh? You've written for so long, won't you feel upset if it's lost?"
"It's not anything important anyway."
Ewen turned his head and tapped his forehead with the end of his pen, "The truly important things are in my head, not on paper."
"You wrote about me in your notebook, am I unimportant too?"
Cinderella immediately looked tearful, then slyly smiled, "Or have you already remembered me in your mind?"
