So we moved out of our old apartment - fifty cardboard boxes filled with thirteen years of memories. I only went there to help a few times, picking up books, childhood dresses, lamp shades, magnetics, figurines… all tossed into the dark, dark cubes, no longer useful, no longer taken out, no longer remembered.
For one last time, the black clock was taken down from the wall of our living/dining room. Its hands no longer turning - it secretly died when the time stopped flowing in this tiny home.
For those memories no longer remembered, seal them in a box - at least we give them a funeral, a tomb.