And none will hear the postmans knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten? Night Mail by W.H. Auden
When a relationship ends something is always left behind. Sometimes its physical perhaps a telephone number, a ticket stub or a piece of clothing. Sometimes its more ephemeral the lingering echo of the last words spoken, of promises made, broken or unfulfilled. This is what remnant is; a cataloguing of the things that get left behind.