"I don't trust memories. Not really. I really don't trust other peoples memories either, as much as my own."
CHARACTER 1 and CHARACTER 2 are sat at a cafe, they order lunch.
"I think she brought me a gift. We used to give each other novelty magnets as a joke; I still have some of them on the fridge in the old house."
CHARACTER 2 reaches into her bag and places a small package on the table.
"Or maybe I brought her a gift."
The package is now gone. CHARACTER 1 reaches into her bag and places a small package on the table.
"Maybe we both brought something.
Yes, I think so that would have made sense."
Both gifts are on the table and they open them.
2 novelty magnets.
"This memory feels made up. All my memories feel made up at times. My teenage obsession with film caused me to imagine being viewed though a camera at all times. I think it might have started as a fear being watched, of being caught exsisting in a wrong way, but then it grew into more of a facination. Which angels the lens would be looking at me though. Often wide shots, bird eyes view. Distanced. I imagined this so often and consistently, my memories became not how I had viewed them but how I imagined the scenes playing out on film and when I tried to re-collect what had happened, all I could see was how I had imagined it looking, from the distance. Is that a real memory? Was any of it real? "