The Fading Memory

We are all living inside someone else's memory. And they are starting to forget.

My neighbor disappeared mid-sentence. Her house remained, empty and hollow. The streets began

repeating. The same cracks, the same rust stains. Honey,

the street keeps repeating! Always Maple Street! Maple Street? We've never had

a Maple Street in our town. I found a journal I didn't write.

Final entry: 'I cannot remember her face anymore. I am sorry.' My vision blurs.

My reflection is now transparent. Even my daughter notices. We are just

details in a dying mind. The forgetting has begun.