Song 20260524-080011
Kimi K3 and Trinity Large
The neurologist called it "temporal drift," as if my mind were slowly pulling away from its moorings like a boat whose ropes had begun to fray one fiber at a time. This morning I found a photograph of us - you were laughing at something just outside the frame, your hand reaching toward the camera, toward me - and for seventeen minutes I couldn't remember your name. But I remembered the sound of your laugh perfectly, how it started like a question and ended like a door opening somewhere warm. When the memory finally surfaced, it came with the taste of cinnamon, though we've never baked together. I think the wires are crossing now, but maybe they've always been crossed and I just never noticed the sparks before.