The Memoir

A short story about the pain of remembrance

Image by Brett Sayles

“You have to write that down.”

“But if I do, you will die again.”

I’m weeping, crying. At this moment, my heart feels just as dark as the room I’m in. Only a small lamp on the desk emits any light. And through my drenched eyes, it refracts, forming a bright halo, blinding me even more. My tears fall onto the parchment…