From a strange point of view there is a room filled with ideas and mind spasms, all colliding to make an exquisite remembrance. He stared at the room and all its glory, all of its sanctity, all of its works. He was very proud and anxious to look over some of his most prized accomplishments. One of his most recent and favorite of them all, he touched. The folder containing the information was smooth, the straps bound in leather, almost as if made of oilskin. Pulling up a chair from the enormously covered mahogany table, he placed himself rigidly and opened the cover of the bound folder.
Inside lay the contents of his greatest achievement. There were pictures, discreetly taken, birth certificate and death certificate, maps of the area with dots and lines to indicate passage, the long, written statement of the actual event, and a lock of the person's own hair. The hair pertained to different ages, such as 5 years old, 12 years old, 17 years old, and 19 years old. This was his momento, all of it. He scanned and read the papers that were crisp with fresh cut. Their hairs were in separate zip-lock bags and he took deliberate time to smell each one. Each one held a memory. They were memories of her.
As he sat there, basking in his brilliance, he couldn't help but smile. The smile, grin, stretch of skin signified his joy for his past pleasures. That was all that mattered in life to him.
With great reluctance, he did the same to all his other files. He did this in a matter of a couple hours, taking his sweet time, but he would always go back. His recent one was his best, and he couldn't help but savor it.
Standing up took patience this time around; not needing or wanting his knees to give out, one could only hope they would.
