Certain memories rise to the surface. Always at random times, and it’s always the same ones over and over.

The scary thing is how they loose that visceral feeling. Like a t-shirt worm too many times, every time she pulls it out it’s a little more threadbare. They don’t make her stomach drop; no longer send her reeling.

She’s worried she has worn them out. She’s afraid she won’t get new ones to replace the old ones.

She wants to put them away and save them for a lonely day. But she doesn't know how, they just keep popping up.