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| Tiger Lily |
When you step into the room, you notice a poster of a flower, but you can’t remember the flower’s name. People who have known each other for years are playing cards at the kitchen table, but they don’t remember anything about each other.
Open a door.
Suddenly one of them blurts out that her husband had affairs with other women, but she can’t provide any proof. Another woman keeps offering you some ice cream even though you keep telling her that you are allergic to milk.
Open a window.
One of them keeps saying that she is waiting for her husband--who died ten years ago. Another claims that the pain in his knee is from a work injury, but you know that he has had arthritis in his knee for at least twenty years.
Open a different door.
Suddenly you are having trouble remembering the names of their children and their children’s children, your memories beginning to slide into oblivion along with all the beliefs and feelings and desires that you once considered so important, yet as gaze at your cards, beginning to panic, you notice the others are mumbling or humming or chirping happily as if something remains even when memory is gone.
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