Hazy

It's strange how your past comes creeping up on you when you least expect it.

"Hey, didn't we used to go to school together? I remember you."

Do you? I don't.

I wonder what she's remembering when she looks at me. I wonder who I was then. That whole time is painted black in my mind. I only remember snippets, frozen images. I don't have nearly enough to piece together a complete story.

I'm surprised she remembers me at all. I guess I must've had more of an effect there than I though . . . or maybe just a memorable face.

I remember her too. I remember all of them. All the faces, all the words, all the emotions rushing back--are they even real?

Why can't I remember myself?