A Keen Memory
I was a kid--maybe 7 or 8.
Daytime, rain threatening.
A woman--middle-aged--stopped me at the corner of Fillmore Place and 60th St. Would I go to a shop and fetch her her umbrella, which she had left there? She told me where it was.
I fetched it for her. Pleased that I had found it.
She thought and then said, I don't have any money on me now, but if you come here at 6 c'clock tomorrow, I'll give you a reward.
At 6pm the next day--I was pretty sure she would not come--but I didn't want to insult her by not coming--and so I went there. I waited and waited. And then left. A very keen memory. Some memories vanished, some return again and again.
Daytime, rain threatening.
A woman--middle-aged--stopped me at the corner of Fillmore Place and 60th St. Would I go to a shop and fetch her her umbrella, which she had left there? She told me where it was.
I fetched it for her. Pleased that I had found it.
She thought and then said, I don't have any money on me now, but if you come here at 6 c'clock tomorrow, I'll give you a reward.
At 6pm the next day--I was pretty sure she would not come--but I didn't want to insult her by not coming--and so I went there. I waited and waited. And then left. A very keen memory. Some memories vanished, some return again and again.
posted by WarrenBoroson at 1:46 PM
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