Forgotten Survivor
I was having breakfast at my favourite cafe when a young woman who could have been five years older smiled at me from across the room before approaching my table. “Hi again,” she said. I was confused. “Do I know you?” “Oh, you may not remember, but you paid for my lunch a couple of years ago two towns over when I had misplaced my purse.” My memory has been hazy for a long time; and even though I discontinued my medication, it never fully recovered. Some fragments of my life were lost forever. “I would like to pay for your breakfast, if you don’t mind. It’s the least I can do.” “No, no, it’s fine. You don’t need to.” “Oh, please, I insist.” I wanted to say no, but she was too sincere for me to refuse—and she reminded me of my older sister, Ally, whom I at least assumed would look like her, had she still been around. I couldn’t remember how Ally passed away; in fact, almost all of my childhood was a blur. I finally caved and told her it was alright. The woman introduced herself as Tina. ...
