A torn photograph; a torn memory. She holds the aged photograph in her shaky, withered hands, confused and somewhat frightened at the bleakness of this faded flashback. Questions flood into her mind; "Who is this person? Why do I have this photo?" Overwhelmed by thoughts, she discards the picture on her bed stand.
A sudden knock at the door is followed by an unknown man's entry. The intruder begins moseying about as if he belongs in her room.
"Who are you?" she questions, her forehead crinkled with concern.
"It's okay Mrs. Olvidar; I'm simply doing my job." He pauses, smiling, then looks down at the photograph next to her. "Looking at your photo again?"
Anxiety heightened and even more confused than before, she sits down to think, "How does this man know of the photo I just found?"
After a moment of silence, she lifts her head in time to see the man leaving her room.
Just outside, she hears the man say, "Poor Mrs. Olvidar. I'm afraid it's getting worse."
"She looking at her photo?" asks another strange voice, this time a woman.
"Yes. Doesn't even know the photograph is of her..." the man replies.
She glances over at her bed stand, and notices an unfamiliar photo there. Picking it up in her shaky, withered hands, questions flood into her mind; "Who is this person? Why do I have this photo?"
A torn photograph; a torn memory.
Author's Note: "Olvidar" in Spanish means, "To Forget".
23 April 2013