Once a year I go to the bank vault. Once a year I am greeted by the woman in black and white and tell myself that next year I’m going to ask her out. We make small talk as she leads me to my lockbox. She leaves me in privacy. I open my box and let all of the memories out.

The bad ones. The ones that cause  harm and hate. I deal with them, in the lockbox room; I relive them. They can’t escape; neither can I. Then after a while I put them back in my lockbox and leave. Then I go to Starbucks.

……….

I went to my lockbox yesterday. One of my memories was missing. I considered summoning the woman in black and white and demanding an explanation, but that might ruin my chances for a date next year. So I reconsidered. Plus: she’d never understand. She’d ask what was missing and what would I say? I closed my lockbox and went home, worried. Where is my memory?

At 3 this morning there was a knock on the door. A woman was on the other side. She seemed familiar though I didn’t know why. I invited her in.