She wakes up one morning to find a gap in her mind, a grey spot that she pokes at with her thoughts, trying to recall what lived there. The space is like a missing tooth, the gum hot and swollen and empty. Her memories rail around the point, searching for a point of reference, something familiar to cling to.
Something has made an incision, scalpel-sharp, and cleanly removed a piece of her history. She is disordered, displaced, she wakes sweating with terror at the thought of what she may have lost. This is the dream she kept hidden, this is the love that she has forgotten, her first ice-cream, her favourite book, her mother’s hand. Anything could be locked inside, thousands of memories parcelled in pinpoint boxes
Who came in the night to snatch away herself? There is no gradual fade, no slow slide into forgetfulness. Only this blank space, this perfect egg of nothing.
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