Real Life

by Brandon Taylor

It is why he does not trust memory. Memory sifts. Memory lifts. Memory makes due with what it is given. Memory is not about facts. Memory is an inconsistent measurement of the pain in one’s life.

Kindness is a debt, Wallace thinks. Kindness is something owed and something repaid. Kindness is an obligation.

Perhaps friendship is really nothing but controlled cruelty. Maybe that’s all they’re doing, lacerating each other and expecting kindness back. Or maybe it’s just Wallace, lacking friends, lacking an understanding of how friendship works.

I’m sorry has so little use, is of such little worth, that to offer it seems almost an insult.