Harriot West

Lethe

She has trouble remembering the name of her podiatrist, what she ate for lunch or where she and her husband honeymooned. He, however, can tell you it was a drafty hotel on Lago Maggiore where the concierge had an unpleasant habit of drooling and the osso bucco they ate in Verbania made them slightly ill. And when he belittles her lapses, she sighs and says no dear, it’s you who has yet to master the fine art of forgetting.

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