Negative Mneumonics

Wiped right off, the photo did not speak. Like a bank going bankrupt, this was a photo without images. We stared for hours at the plate, hoping something would appear. “Still nothing,” said the dandy, in his grey felt fedora and blue tweed jacket. He was leaning over the counter waving the wet paper about with a set of tongs.

“Oh god… dammit – it’s got to show up at some point.” She sighed. Photographs were her mnemonic apparel. She needed them to remember, without them she had nothing. No history, no kin, no soul. She looked down at her feet, nervous and dejected. She needed to know what had happened, and the darkroom was giving up no answers so far. “what, did I leave the lens cap on?”

“If you did, it would have been the only thing you left on in your tomfoolery” he replied, smirking. He was a froward little bastard.

“I’ve been thinking my camera had become omnipotent, now i realize just how wrong that appraisal was.” She spoke mostly to herself. She put a different filter slide over the negative drawer, closed it and adjusted the strength of the light.

 ”I’ve got something, finally!” she shouted as she looked through the little nozzle of the apparatus at the processed negative. “And holy shit, do I look demonic!!”

“Stop shouting, I’m right here…”

“Look closely, there I am, beer in hand, and looking absolutely pitiful. oiii… but who’s that beside me?” He looked through the nozzle as her head made way for him.

“Yeah that’s me.” He looked up over at her, eyebrow raised. “I thought you had remembered all that. You don’t remember anything?” he asked.

“Of course not, or else I wouldn’t be scrambling for photographic evidence would I?”

“Charlotte, you don’t remember that we hooked up last night? It was marvellous, if I may remind you.” Now he was the one looking dejected.

“Look, one night of good sex doesn’t solve my short term memory problem, ok” She was repulsed at the idea that she had slept with that little rat. He was too slick for his own good, always looking studiously tousled. “Ok. get out of my darkroom. I feel like working alone now.”

“I just got here though. We shared some really good memories last night. We connected. And this is how you treat me?”

“Well, if your story is in fact true, then you made out with a ghost, because I don’t remember any of it; and so as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen. Now go on, skedaddle.” she shooed him out of the room.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember!” he shouted from the other side of the door. With her back to the door, she smiled. Of course she remembered…. the sex just wasn’t good enough for a second serving. She walked back over to the enlarger, removed the negative from the drawer, and then threw it into the garbage. Now that’s one way of getting rid of the past.