It all started with the scent of apples filling the air. 

The building, a stranger, Istare at the cubby not yet mine

My name is trying to get to know the cubby so I can call it mine. This was just the beginning of all those memories meant to be saved. Bouncing up and down on my chair, my eyes wide as the pastry’s touch my desk, I sing happy birthday, the sugary smell up my nose, my mouth ready to eat. I remember the lights going off everyone across the floor, no noise to hear or screams of fear, just quiet. Then after rest and relaxation I bend down to the child’s position, my ears fixed on the gong until I can’t hear it. That’s when light wakes up again. At first it was just news then a giant wave pushing everyone online masks everywhere the world quarantined the winter just about to leave the screen taking the place of my desk no longer will I breath the fresh air for who knows how long. My mask comes out of the air and hits my face clean and fresh, no dirty trace. The faces of others come clear to me so much more for bathed eyes to see. 

These are memory’s meant to be saved