Her head hurt and began to eat
a w a y at her.
The pages began to wear, and
she was turning from one
messy page to another.
"You did this to me?" She stammered.
The diary was pure evidence that she
was held captive in her own mind
unable to move on,
or remember what cereal she had
nine hours ago.
She was forgetting as they spoke.
"It was an accident-" he began to say.
"You've been lying to me, taking
advantage of my own i l l n e s s.
Having me believe for a day that we're
s t r a n g e r s,
when really we were once a couple,
and I forgot about our love
when you hit that tree in my car."
He was saddened,
because all he wanted was to love
h i s Holland again.
YOU ARE READING
Memoirs of Holland
Short StoryHer name was Holland, Holly for short. She liked two teaspoons of sugar with her coffee, and often pronounced 'America' as uh-merica. Her name was Holland, Holly for short, and half the things she said she'd already forgotten.
