I.

Or a copy of one
I don’t remember when it happened

A room
That’s not an accident

Someone talking
Not the words—light where it shouldn’t be

The certainty
Already smoothed beginning

I’ve told this before
Edges only

I know the shape of it
When I try to replay it

Like a photograph left too long in the sun
The center drops out

No. Sitting
Watching… It’s loading

That’s the tell
This isn’t remembering. Something decided this is early

Something chose the cut
Some angles choose themselves