The side walls play your downloaded memories of our times together like random scenes from a movie. And you know what’s weird? The images are exactly the way I remember them, too. None of those dizzying perceptual differences you always see when you look at a shared memory, no “reality delta” in neuro-tech parlance. They say that kind of thing almost never happens. Makes sense, though. We always laughed at the same jokes, loved the same movies and books. Our connection was there from the start. Kissing goodbye in the rain. My God, what were we here, twenty? Look at our bodies, so fresh and new, full of raging hormones. Could this possibly have been two hundred years ago? It’s strange, but whenever I think of you, even after all this time, this is who I always see: Sandra at twenty, tall and radiant, flaxen hair and coffee-colored eyes, that little scar on the bridge of your nose. Wow, look at us! Our lips pressed together madly, the rain falling in big drops, soaking us. A warm spring rain, joyous and full of hope.
What do You think about Juarez Square And Other Stories?
