My Journal of Weekend Write-Ins

The Memory Machine

Harry inspected the contraption in front of him. It had to be metal from the way it glimmered in the light. The smooth exterior felt warm to his touch. Which metal?

"It isn't stainless steel," he noted.

"Stainless steel feels cool against the skin," he heard old professor Maroy's grainy voice. "Not because it is cool but because it is a good inductor. It takes your heat into itself."

Alchemy of Metals had been his favorite subject at school. He met Marla there. Marla with her large appetite and small frame. She wasn't much of a cook, so he did the cooking and she did the eating.

"She probably found a better cook," he scoffed as he caressed the machine.

He turned the contraption upside down. It wasn't copper, it lacked the tan orange color and the vibration was off.

"Some metals are man-made and others, like copper, are a gift from nature," professor Maroy purred as he held his copper bar.

Marla had bought Harry a medium-sized copper-lined pan for their eight-month anniversary, "to make your world-famous lasagna." She had always loved his lasagna the best. She would moan in delight as she ate it.

"You should open your own restaurant," she said between bites. "Actually don't, then you'll be too busy to cook for me." She was both selfish and possessive, qualities he admired. He shook the memories back.

"Marla's gone," he sighed.

Harry's arms hurt from holding the machine.

"Osmium," he said and placed the machine down and touched his heavy heart.

Harry shuffled the papers in his pocket until he found the post-its. Then he picked up a pen. When he finished writing he pasted the note next to the machine, "BROKEN".

He turned his attention to the next contraption. "Time Machine, huh?"

He smiled as he sat down inside. If it can't be forgotten then maybe it can be changed, he thought as he pushed the ON bottom and adjusted the knobs.