I don't know which is worst, forgetting the date or having a date to begin with.
She grieves for you you know. After mopping the blood that were visions and disinfecting the walls that were feelings, she folded her memories neatly and tucked them away. Sentimental. They mean everything and nothing to her. Priceless. She closed the door but she never locked because, she didn't want anyone to think she had something to hide or- just in case someone wanted to know what was behind it.
Today, old fumes and muscle memories pull her back into flashes and she freezes. An annual holiday for the undead. With each anniversary it brings more pain. They say time heals all wounds but the clock needs new batteries, the sand's run out, the sun sets.
No one told her to get over it. Of course no one knows.
Do you know what one of her biggest fears are? Questions. She's as strong as an ox yet as gentle as a feather but she doesn't know how to handle questions.
"Do you remember the time?"
-Should I say something?
"Are you sure that's what happened?"
-Is it hot in here or is it just me?
"Why didn't you say anything?"
-How are you doing? Are you okay?
"Can you tell me how long it lasted?"
-Why are you looking at me like that?
She's tried to reclaim her skin, her feelings, her time but it just doesn't work like that does it?
It's been over a decade now and she still washes these impressions and presses them wishing the embossing would leave but you can't undo the past, you can't undo her reality, you can't eliminate her holiday.
