Saturday, March 1, 2008

Memory - A Short Story

Evening in Paris. I told him that when he asked me the name of my perfume. For a moment, I did not know he was speaking to me for my mind had begun to wander and I had just walked into the building where I work. My day so far had been good and I was already thinking of my soon to be time spent writing another story for my blog, so it truly did surprise me when a complete stranger paid attention to a part of me like that. He asked me the name of the perfume I was wearing and I told him. As we got on the elevator with three other people, each one of us already plotting out our strategy for the day, I found myself wondering about the stranger who now stood in front of me. Would he go to a department store after work and locate the perfume for his girlfriend, wife, or even mother? Maybe the perfume reminded him of a lost love during his college years or the beginning of a new one. Or perhaps the scent provoked him to think of old and dusty books read while intoxicated and smoking French cigarettes. Still, I wondered if he even remembered speaking to me; we as humans have a funny knack for forgetting matters minutes after they have occurred.

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