Thief of Memories


“Granny, where are you looking?”

“On the shelf of my merits.”

“This is this shelf with all kinds of junk, right?”

“Where did you get it, dear, that this is junk?”

“Daddy says so.”

“Your dad doesn’t understand the value of things. So he says it’s junk.”

“If it’s not junk, then what is it? Where did it come from in our house?”

“It all started when I was about your age, Debbie. I noticed that it was very important for me to have what I did not have.”

“How is it?”

“And that’s how it is. Sleight of hands and sheer fraud.”

“Were you a fraudster?”

“Yes. And I’m proud of that. This is a part of me. No matter how intelligent your dad is, he also understands that the creator gives not only material rewards but also such a subtle art. So I developed my cunning, ingenuity, purposefulness, determination. And in principle, my hobby also raised me. Thanks to my “all-wanted gut,” as I call him, I have met many great people. For example, I met your grandfather. Can you imagine it? He was so handsome that my professionalism was scattered throughout the store like sunlight at noon. He noticed, grabbed my hand and pierced me with such a stern look. I thought I would crumble like dust in the wind. It turned out that someone had already worked before me, because he took out his empty wallet and said: “If people are so striving to steal money from me, then they have nothing to eat. Would you like to treat me to dinner?” Your grandfather was the sweetest person. He studied acting, and a stern look was his specialty. I have some theatrical posters with his image preserved.

“Dad said that grandfather often called you his muse.”

“So it was, my flower. And so it was. This wallet is now in the upper right corner of that cabinet. See?”

“I see, granny. And the rest of the stuff?”

“These are my friends, colleagues, acquaintances. Everyone who is dear to me.”

“There are so many of them, yeah?”

“Yes, my flower. And that’s not all.”

“Where is everyone else?”

“The earth is still being trampled.”

“And those on the shelf? There are a lot of them. How do they fit in here?”

“The stars shine in the sky. They were stars on earth. And now they wave at you from the sky at night.”

Our conversation with my granny was interrupted by a phone call. She listened to in silence and sighed heavily. When I asked what had happened, she replied: “Let’s go outside. I will introduce you to a new star.”

A few days later a new item appeared on the shelf of her merits.

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