Remembering Fine

August 1, 2012
She was fine. Great, even. Old, perhaps, but that’s a place everyone is destined to go. She was fine and old, then she was old and not-so-fine. She forgot things—simple things—like why she walked to the living room or how many cups of flour she needed to make cookies. Then she was not-fine. What is that girl’s name, where am I, who is he? She called the police to have them remove the strange man who loved her, but they removed her instead. She could not go back home—even if she could, or did, she would not remember.

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