A sign tacked to a door reads
“Lost and found.”
The words have been scrawled quickly, carelessly,
Almost as if their creator hadn’t cared for them much.
My hand rests on the thick wooden door.
My curiosity, of course, grabs hold of me
Opens the door, and pushes me inside.
I stumble into the bright, florescent lights
And take in my surroundings.
Shelves of broken hearts
Rows of friendships once strong
Boxes of torn teddy bears
Envelopes of notes passed with secrets,
All covered in a fine layer of dust.
But then I notice the walls.
The walls are covered, every inch, with pictures.
As I examine each, I expect their memories to return.
But they don’t.
I wait for a feeling of loss to set in.
But it doesn’t
So I step back, out of the door
Out of light’s reach
And continue on, in my dark