“What’re you thinking about?”
My attenuated twilight study shifts. “Forgetting.” Cirrus strands dissolve into dusk like so many memories.
Attending her niece’s third wedding exposed my regressing mindfulness. Myosotis centerpieces incited the realization I’ve forgotten her favorite flower. She congratulated her niece with the nickname I’d coined but long lost. Hearing their vows, I couldn’t recall how we came to be in love, or if we ever were.
“Forgetting what?” Concern creases her face, its shadows extended by the sun’s exfiltration.
Turning to search for straggling cirri, I discover they’ve given way to endless unclaimed constellations awaiting our design.
“Forget it.”
I’d call this a perfect little story!