I jerked awake. The sound of pressure on the third stair echoed through the silent house. Jake heard it too. I reached for my phone as he took chase. Jake’s loud bark followed the pounding footsteps of the would-be thief.
“No, I don’t remember. There’s only so much room in my brain, something has to go.”
That’s my go-to answer for when I don’t remember shit, for when I’ve forgotten names, birthdays or to pay the bills.
I wish I could select which memories to throw away and which ones to store for safe keeping. If I could, I’d make sure just happy memories filled my mind, because everyone should remember the good times.
She waited and listened, sitting in the same chair for hours. The road remained silent and empty, just like the last year of her life.
Another day gone, one day left, his letter said this week. Her hand trembled as she moved to close the window and shut out the cool night air. In the distance, a cloud of dust clouded her vision and she ran to meet her love half-way.