“Or perhaps a widow found him and took him in: bought him an easy chair, changed his sweater every morning, shaved his face until the hair stopped growing, took him faithfully to bed with her every night, whispered sweet nothings into what was left of his ear, laughed with him over black coffee, cried with him over yellowing pictures, talked greenly about having kids of her own, began to miss him before he became sick, left him everything in her will, thought of only him as she died, always knew he was a fiction but believed in him anyway.
Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated

When I read the quote, I get reminded of this other character I had for a short period of time before I lost interest in developing her further. Her name was Aequenn. She had hair as orange as a carrot and eyes as green as grass. She was freckled, cheerful and had a nice temper. Aequenn only had one very small problem: she was mad.