She could never forget herself, but she knew what it was like to be forgotten. She could see it, feel it in her bones. Missed messages, calls unanswered. And then slowly making you feel like you are fading away from their memories and present moments. They don’t remember you when they see something you would like. They don’t laugh about happy memories anymore. You just cease to exist in their daily humdrum of routine-ness.

Even the expected can cause that sense of sadness that no matter how fleeting burns through your conscious. She nursed the burn with the wet coldness of trying-not-to-think-about-it. The paradox laughed, rolling on the floor.