It was true that he had come into the world with nothing, but he had always thought it was not true that he would leave it with nothing. When he came to the end of life’s journey, he would carry a lifetime of memories — that was what he had become aware of as he had reached middle age — that no matter what should befall him, whether good or bad, he would carry it locked in his memory until he gasped his final breath and the curtain fell on his particular act. But now he was afraid something was happening to him, so that he feared his very memories would be taken from him, stripped away with each passing day, and every morning when he awoke, he felt the grip of fear at what might be forgotten today.
It must have come upon him in the night, this thing that tried to rob him of his memories. It must have come upon him in the night, because if it had come in the daylight, he surely would have been able to see it and to struggle against it, and to vanquish it and to drive it away. But it had come upon him insidiously, with stealth, so he had not even known it was happening.…..until it seemed to be too late.
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