“How could you forget?” he asks, looking at me incredulously. “Really? Again?”
He’s right. How could I forget? But then, these days, I forget a lot of things. “I’m sorry,” I say.
His irritation hurts me, as does my own frustration at not remembering the simplest of things. I seem to live in a perpetual cloud of distraction, unmindfulness being the witness to my every act. I believe I’m being attentive because I truly do listen.
But come a day, a week, a month later and realize that my mind did not retain the information and I stand, dismayed, before my abstracted state of mind.