My brain is filled with useless information.  I giggle to myself as I realize I’m humming the theme song of my favorite childhood cartoon, a show I haven’t watched since sometime in the 1980’s.

Jem is my name/no one else is the same/Jem is my name/Jem! 

I still remember the combination of the first locker I was ever assigned in middle school.  11-1-11.  The full name of the first boy I kissed in sixth grade.  Allen Richard Thornton.  The first thing I ever stole.  A faux leather wallet with a picture of the Spice Girls.

I marvel at my good fortune for the 100th time as I settle into a lawn chair in my secluded, newly-renovated, backyard.  The sun is bright.  It’s a good day to tan.  I chuckle as I think of all those losers fighting for space on the highways and expressways on their way to jobs that are slowly killing them inside.

As I close my eyes, my most important memory plays for me.  My neighbor is standing in his driveway in the middle of the night, dumping a human-shaped bundle in his trunk.  His wife hadn’t been seen for days.  I snapped a photo for good measure, but there really was no need.  Like I said, I remember things.

Even though my eyes are closed, I notice the light above me has changed.  I open them to see my neighbor’s shadow falling over me like a dark blanket, and I shiver.  He is blocking my sun.  I wonder what he wants.

For Sunday Photo Fiction


19 thoughts on “Memory

  1. Wow. This took an unexpected turn.
    I was enjoying this person’s memories and how well she remembered em, until I realized she even remembered some very fishy stuff. And how cool she was about it, lol.
    And then the neighbor comes in. 😁
    Brilliant story, Jenn. 😏

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