I will save you.
#4
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It was hard to only block out certain memories, so he repressed them all. They were pictures and movies playing behind fogged glass. They could just barely make out their colors and outlines, could barely hear the muffled sounds. He knew they were still there and sometimes recognized them if people pointed them out, but for the most part, they were only there in the background, out of his immediate thought and attention. He stopped when he heard his name, but did not immediately return, or even turn around to face his "sister." Did he remember? Did he remember anything at all?



Yesterday was gone. As was the day before that. Perhaps. It didn't matter. Nothing beyond the hour before mattered and nothing beyond the immediate did either. This conversation mattered now, but when it was over, it would be gone. No, he said quietly. Half-honest. He could if he tried harder, but he wasn't trying. What else was back there in that awfully dry summer? The worst weather he'd ever lived through, but the best summer of his life. It was too ironic.



Slowly, he turned his battered body around, though he took no steps back towards the gravesite. I try not to remember much of anything, he told her.



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