The Mnemonics of Knowing – One

By Nell

I HAD NO IDEA he was watching me, that he even knew I sat where I did. When I wasn’t watching the slides on the screen, I was watching him, and not once did I see him look at me. It is true what they say – some people are able to see without even having to look at all.

The older, two suburban women had been there every week, but had I known this before? I thought they might require smelling salts. When he came over, it looked like their bodies spun around 180 degrees without any effort at all, just to see. They distracted me. Dark lipstick and face powder. Strong perfume. At first I could only see his mouth moving. Then I noticed his eyebrows in the air. He asked me if I would have tea with him.

Did he know I did not drink coffee? It’s unusual not to be a coffee drinker. He drinks tea. He talked in a rush, like he was trying to get over the preliminaries, get to something more immediate. I couldn’t imagine. He told me he didn’t sleep at night. I told him I was the same. Neither one of us had a car. I was surprised how things like this could happen when you’re not thinking they could.

Even that day, I think I feebly tried to explain to him the devices I used for remembering the art. What I couldn’t understand was how he seemed to already know what I was going to tell him before I had finished. When we walked through the door and out of the building, later, he took a wool cap from his pocket and put it on with one quick, curved motion. I knew then.


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