Rescued

Search crews found him on a rock ledge trying to sing. It was something else he’d forgotten. That and his past—growing up, old girlfriends and all the years with me—wiped clean.

At first it was a tragicomic farce. ‘Robert, you say?’

I’d nod

‘I don’t remember.’

‘I know darling,’ I’d say. ‘I know.’

Later, when he understood, he’d get annoyed if he thought I was trying to feed him memories—old songs, photos, anything. So I banished them. The house became blank in their absence.

Until, on my way home one evening, I detoured via the shops. I tried on shoes, bought new stockings and sampled perfume offered by a girl with a rock-hard smile.

When I walked into the house he sat up. I’d taken to pecking him on the cheek as if he remembered. As I did he breathed long and hard, smelling the new scent. Suddenly memories began cascading from him.

They weren’t of me.

I took them, regardless.

2 thoughts on “Rescued

  1. I love this one, Thats quite a challenge to write a love sotry evry day. I’m working on a book about love.
    I’d like to put a link to your site on my blog. Let me know if ok, I assume it is but wnated to check.
    Susanna

  2. Thanks for finding smallstoriesaboutlove, Susanna, and for your kind comment. I’d be happy for you to link to my site (and when I work out what I’m doing I’d be happy to reciprocate too, but at this stage I’m keeping things simple, in accordance with the conditions of my blogging L=plates).

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