Memory Thief by JD Langert

Her wedding photo was gone.
    It was early morning, the vestiges of sleep still present in the corners of her eyes, while brewing a pot of Blue Mountain Roast, that she noticed the photo was missing. Its former place above her kitchen table was mysteriously empty; a noticeably clean rectangle of paint left behind where it once loomed over the dining room.
    Instead of acknowledging it more than she already had, she returned to her coffee and got ready for work.
    After returning from work and opening the front door, she noticed her living room seemed particularly empty, larger even. After a moment, she located the space where the living room sofa had been, dust bunnies and spare change left on the ground where it once resided. An old, ugly green thing. Impossible to find a comfortable position upon it with all the springs straining to get out and the upholstery covered with stains.
    She smiled, noting that the room smelled pleasantly less of alcohol and sweat at its disappearance. She resolved to schedule an appointment with the furniture moving company tomorrow, hoping they still had that white leather chaise lounge she had been eyeing.
    While putting away her laundry, she opened one of the drawers in her dresser and was met with the sight of emptiness. Once it had held meticulously folded large t-shirts with various sports logos that she could never accurately name or find interest in.
    It was admittedly peculiar to see the once crowded drawer now over-flowing with space. Once, it had been getting to the point where she needed to take out her own clothing in order to make room for the increasing number of rarely worn men’s sports jerseys. Now, there were just traces of dust and lint upon the wood.
    In response, she removed a few of her favorite scarfs from a box hidden in the back of her closet and placed the tie-dye colored apparels into the wooden drawer. She smiled, brushing her hand through the ticklish, silky fibers as she recalled warm summer days of years past. She had never had space for them before. Perhaps she’d buy more.
    It was another few days before what had once been considered as the most valuable thing in the house winded up missing.
    Sipping at her morning coffee, she stared at the empty glass container upon her television set. Though it was currently filled with dust and scratches, she had once meticulously polished and shined it every day. Sometimes more. For, at that time, it had held a gold trophy.
    But not just any trophy. Awarded in an individual’s college days, it was the highest honor that one could receive during the hockey season and worthy of years of bragging. Or so she had heard.
    In the face of a great loss, she took another sip of her coffee. The warm, rich taste lingered upon her tongue as she wondered what would be missing from the house tomorrow.
    She looked forward to it.

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