MEMORY
No objects. Only what the objects were around — reconstructed from a recording, a log, a note.
A train at 07:42.The same faces.Nobody speaking yet.
Rain against a window.Warm on the inside of the glass.Cold on the outside.
Someone laughingin the next room.You never learn what at.
The smell of coffeereaching a roombefore anyone is awake in it.
A message writtenand read back onceand not sent.
A door held openfor a strangerwho was slightly too far away.
Two plates set out.One meal made twicewithout being asked.
Footsteps on a stairyou know well enoughto climb in the dark.
The exact momentthe streetlights come onand no one has decided it is evening yet.
A voice on a recordingkept long afterthere was any way to call back.
A room that staysexactly as it was leftin case someone comes back to it.
The last ordinary Tuesday.DATA CORRUPTEDIt was not marked at the time.
It labels the gaps and continues.