My memory as a whole is fading, little things escape more frequently, keys, wallet, sunglasses. I’ve no doubt if I wore more pants than sweats I’d forget my zipper often enough, as I forget to take my pills and forget to add salt into a cookie batter.
But I do remember the
last time I saw her. I can feel the plush of my seats, the shifter I
gripped so tightly I thought I’d wrench it from the transmission. I
remember her smell, her voice, reluctant whispers. Best friend she said.
My demotion. I remember the taste of my tears, the heaviness in my
chest, the choking on my words; last time I said. Like a creature caught
in ancient amber, that moment is forever mine.