what it's time for is up to you--

Sunday, October 5

It's a matter of recognition, rather than memory. You see someone, the image plays at the edges of your brain. Who is this person? There is something familiar about them, but you can't say if you're sure. You search features, hair, eyes, shape of the face, the clothes, height, demeanor. What is it about this person? Why can't you synch the information into the right slot in your brain?

In the coffee shop this morning, it was a man, the curve of his mouth, the timber of his voice, somewhere I had talked with him, heard his voice and a certain cynical smirk around his lips. But, nothing else conncected. I scanned the rest of him, wondering where did I know this person from? What other clue was there? I walked by, fragments tickling the back of my head, but I couldn't get it to click. I know it's there somewhere. Who? Where? When?

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