The paper mask hangs there on the wall, a memory. I cannot take it down. It rests between the stars, beside the waxing moon. I sometimes think of her. I knew it then, remind myself I knew and always knew—but it doesn’t help. I dream again and again, and the mask reminds me of that dream and a Halloween night and laughter and fun and knowing. We played, pretending to pretend, trick-o-treating in our twenties, and all for a laugh. I laughed, but my heart was heavy.
How many strange memories hang upon my walls; all full of dreams.
Tale Told 