While she wasn’t paying attention I snuck into the room where
she kept all her memories of me. I didn’t think she’d
mind since it has been so long since she had been in there. While
I was there I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I cleaned it up a
little, tidied up some of the more ragged edges and dusted all my
finest looking portraits.
Did she really need to keep all my old traffic tickets and failures
to appear? I bundled them up and burned them in the fireplace in front
of which we shared our first kiss.
I was just about to leave when I stumbled over our last fight which
she had hastily swept under the Persian carpet I gave her for Christmas
5 years ago. I took the liberty of vacuuming it up and emptied the
bag into the Mediterranean from the bow of the ship we cruised on
after our wedding.
I oiled the lock and greased the hinges just before I left. If she
peeks in someday, I won’t seem half bad.
Tim Bacon is a retired optometrist who has been writing
for seven years. His work has appeared in the Baker Street Irregular
and the Carquinez Review.
