Artefacts 5

My mum always told me that I loved deeply. One afternoon, I recalled to her every detail of her and my father’s preferences - the time they liked to sleep, their favourite desserts, whatever made their faces light up. My mum roared in laughter, amused at my painstaking attention to detail, surprised that I remembered so much.

It’s a trait of mine that never shook off as I got older - the obsessive, compulsive kind of love that I gave to people.

Weeks after my first break up, I woke up and went about my regular routine with a breeziness. The person whose intricacies I had memorized, finally seemed distant.

Ironically, years later (just the other day), it struck me that certain details of him remained unforgettable.

A friend asked if I wanted to meet for breakfast at Marine Parade, and I instinctively said no. I remembered he liked this very particular hokkien mee stall in Marine Parade.

I hate that I still avoid bus no. 16 because he swore he’d never drive. I hate that we used to synchronize our steps, and every time I walked really fast, I would catch myself gleefully laughing at the game we used to play.

These memories wait in the recesses of my mind, and frustratingly surface at inopportune moments. Even now, he handicaps my movement.

Who stayed in your head for too long?
Who can you not forget?