When I kiss my husband goodbye, we’re surrounded by screens advertising risk-free experiences— climb mountains! fly planes! fall in love!
A doctor, his tailored suit worth more than my memories, explains the procedure. New information that I’ve heard before. I wipe sweaty palms on grimy pants and sign with calloused fingerprints.
Yes, I understand that removal is permanent.
Yes, I consent to the sale of my mental records.
Yes, I accept the increased risk of repeat extractions.
This time, they’ll take the last of him, and leave me with a stranger.
Our children will eat today.
We’ll make new memories.
Melanie Mulrooney lives in Nova Scotia with her husband and a gaggle of kids. When not herding children or writing stories, she can be found with her nose in a book or begging her family to play a board game. Find her online at melmulrooney.com.
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