People say memories remain forever. Etched in your mind. When everything ceases to exist, memories remain.
What if I told you, they don't? What if I told you, Memories decide to fade away too, over time, slowly, gently, floating away as you try to desperately hold onto them. Hanging on the ledge, nails digging into the curb. Heart clawing at your rib cage, lungs gasping for a breath and the memories still, slip right through your fingers. Flow through. Into the space. And you lie there, perplexed, panting. Wondering from where this sudden void developed, who created this pit in the stomach. And then questioning what you were doing there in the first place. So you get up, dust yourself off and move on, walk away. Forgetting what you came to remember. As the reminiscence goes back to the lender. And you are left with the remaining few. One more memory, taken away. One more life, taken away.

(c) Ishita Singh 2021