The elevator stops when I reach floor three. My companion doesn’t move to leave and I think I understand when the door opens by itself. I am drawn from its safety into a floor that is cloudy. I can see everything in the clouds; they tell entire lives in flashes and when I move toward them, it is with a pull that is mesmerizing. I let Mnemosyne draw me into the fog.
She is made of remembering. She is the mist as it clears and the feeling of retrieving lost memories. There is a softness to her, the way it would feel to sit atop a cloud. When she offers me a hand, I don't stop myself from taking it.
She leads me through things I have forgotten, things I can't believe I have forgotten, but when I vow to keep hold of them, they have already disappeared again; I can feel them turn to fog, and when I reach for them they slip through my fingers. I watch as they fly away from me.
She seems to know her way through the fog and so I follow her. I don't let go of her hand as we walk; it is cool like the feeling of running one’s hand through dark clouds.
The memories curl around Mnemosyne’s fingers and dissolve into her cloudy form. She is watching me reach for them, and there is a sadness in her that I don't understand.
Her voice is the feeling of mist, and she tells me of things lost and things that won't come back. She shows me the way things fade and how she collects the world’s lost memories.
I am confused and so I ask her why. Why keep these things that don't matter enough to be remembered?
Her laugh is almost inhuman, but something about it calms my fears.
When she shows me the lost memories, I understand. Sometimes the most important things are forgotten; she holds on to them so they don't fade.