Objet'D Art, Cleaved

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Amidst the calming tide that the aftermath brought upon the ruins of what was once a Foundation research facility, laid a single notebook. Untouched by the elements, the cheap pages fluttered in the breeze, like a freshly bloomed blossom of a lily. The colour of the covers had long faded, leaving behind a murky shade of yellow tinted grey. Yet, amidst the debris, that desaturated cardboard shone a brilliant daffodil hue — so gentle, so soft, so unfitting for the environment within which it budded anew.

A gust of wind traces along the spine, tickling and turning the petal-like pages into an irritated frolic. To and fro went the sheets, showing the secrets they may hold. Not fully, no, never fully. Merely a teasing glimpse, barely there, gone in a blink.

Until the breeze delivers a blow aimed down at the floor, as if chastising the feeble sprout for the outburst it caused. So, the dancing pages come to a sudden halt. The binding, already weak from the elements, does what it can to keep those precious folios together as one. And so, exposed laid the contents of this delicate book:

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To the souls that haunt this place,
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allow me to greet you formally for the first time since I had begun to take notice. I am writing this as a way to make sense of… everything and anything.
A peculiar feeling has been stalking me lately. Despite me taking notice only as recently as last week, its been getting more and more difficult to ignore it.
You see, I’ve been forgetting a lot more than I do normally. As it stands, I’ve always been a forgetful person, mainly due to the constant presence of stress. However, I can firmly say that this is different.
I did consult with an amnestic specialist (against the wishes of my supervisor) while I was at the hospital wing for a routine check-up. She performed some tests on me, all of which came back negative. Thank the heavens I am not being drugged with amnestics.
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Yet I keep forgetting.
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I misplace things constantly, regardless of importance. Hell, I don’t even know where my lab coat is. Could it be in the wash? I’ll check later.
But it isn’t just putting things where they shouldn’t be, no, lately it’s been much worse.
My brain draws a blank. Writing this is difficult due to me struggling with holding the pen, because it’s difficult to recall how to hold it properly.
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I do not remember the name of my department.
I do not remember the name of the Site I am at in this very moment.
I do not remember how to use the computer.
I am starting to forget how to speak my mother tongue.
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What makes me **myself**, who made me.
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Mother, father, forgive me, I can no longer remember your faces. The taste in my mouth is bitter while my throat threatens to close upon itself.
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It is difficult to breathe.
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In the bathroom lives a girl. Or, something resembling a girl.
I try to ask her her name, if she could leave, if she could explain why I feel this way.
She says nothing.
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Mama, I want to go home.
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A wail, a quiet cry, then a storm splits the sky. Voices join into a choir of woes. Memories residing within the concrete and rebar are briefly reborn anew. Howl does the wind, whip and snap does the thunder.
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No comfort for the splitting spine.
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Objet'D Art, Cleaved

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