“Third room on your left.” That’s the nurse’s dialogue whenever she sees me. Maybe I’m too handsome to be forgotten? Or do I look to old to remember anything?
Her brown eyes’re watery. I recognize them— tears of pity. Though I am not sure if those are for you, or for me. They’re for us, maybe.
Weird as it may sound, I am glad we can still share something. Something that still belongs to us. Even if they’re salty tears.
‘Cause our memories are now solely mine. Your complex brain has long abandoned them. Even my name was left forgotten.
Word count: 100 words
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Amy Reese
In response to Friday Fictioneers prompt for 30 September 2016.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by the generous Fairy Blog-Mother Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction.