No Strings

I need to get out town, he said. After watching that movie, especially, he added. He referenced the stunning scenery and exotic culture and dramatic arc of the film. Now, we had seen this movie four days earlier, but I found myself drawing a blank. What movie? I asked, trying to grasp what he was talking about. Yes, we had seen a movie, but what was this cluelessness? I honestly could not remember the genre, plot, actors, or title. Big nothing. Zip. Four days ago. What's happening I said to myself, knowing that the answer was right there in front of me: a big, looming lug of a memory-sucking monster. So far, this black hole of forgetting is not so unpleasant as inconvenient to conversation. The words, they don't come, names either, but an entire movie? This is new. All of these strings that used to hold me here on this earth seem to be unraveling, or have been cut, or dissolved, or something. They recede as I rise into the ethers, floating, free from thought, from any sense of what it is I am supposed to be doing.