1. The Envelope
I reach for the hat, the old one that I only wear occasionally. I finally grab it off of the top shelf of my closet and pull it down, and an old envelope, folded lots of times, flutters to the ground. There are crooked creases from where I've folded and unfolded it.
I close my eyes and frown. What could this envelope contain? I bend down to pick it up, then take the envelope to my bed. I pinch it between my forefinger and thunmb like it's a bomb. What is inside, and how hard will it hit me?
I lay it on the bed and look at it, trying desperately to remember. C'mon. I can figure this out. I flip it over, refusing to stare at the warm flap of the envelope any longer, and freeze. In my own messy handwriting is written "DON'T FORGET".
My words are scribbled hastily, and a stain dots the corner. Tears. It must be. I only vaguely remember crying over the envelope and sticking the hat at the top of the closet. I don't even slightly remember why I was crying.
Figure it out, idiot. I rummage through memory after memory. I can't remember. Maybe it's because I'm stupid, a bit naive and somewhat gullible, but I lift the flap of the envelope…