The Effigy Of a Mind - A peculiar reflection on mental health (sci fi)

Part III- Acknowledgment

I fasten the faucet.

My wet socks leave a trail behind me as I re-enter the living room as a stranger.

She'd know what to do. I wish her to be here. Holding and reassuring me. Cracking the most unexpected joke that would make me laugh even against my will. Oh, but the thought of her opening that door with me not even so much remembering her name feels like a stab to the gut. I may not know what is amiss but I remember enough to know how much I care, how much to long for her when she's not here.

> There has to be something.

I take a look around. Nothing seems out of place but now everything feels wrong somehow. I walk towards the hanging frames by the staircase: family pictures, diplomas, a few trophies... Everything as one would expect. Nothing out of the ordinary. As I turn around, towards the couch, I'm suddenly compelled to take a closer look.

>I'm missing something...

A fog... Not unlike the one from my dream, I start to notice a veil of sorts in my mind. A hindrance to perceiving. However I don't feel like it's hard to think. Well, not until I hit a blank, that is. It all feels normal until I realize some crucial memory is gone. It has passed almost what...? Half an hour, maybe, since I woke up, and only now I'm aware that I can't even recall my own name, let alone those of my family. What else is gone, I wonder...

I pick up a portrait of my wife sitting next to me.

Oh, but I do remember this day. It was a warm August day by the creek. She didn't know she was expecting our oldest yet. The red leaves made our steps crunchy and were good starters for the campfire.
We were fed up with our first jobs and were eager to leave and build a life somewhere new. Amongst mosquito bites and bits of scorched fish we decided we wanted to move here that night.

I place the portrait back and then it hits me like a punch, staring me in the face all along!

>It's blurred. - my feet step back as I stare aghast - They're all blurred!

Chaotically I go through each and every photo and not a single one has discernable features. Each triggers a short memory but none is much more than a smudge of colours and silhouettes.

I look around the house. Everything is perfectly in focus: the steps leading to the bedrooms, the wood veins on the pavement, even the fabric textures of the couch and carpet. A need to inspect myself arises which leads me to stare down at some dirty white socks, bubbling and squirting water from each subtle movement - which I proceed to get rid of, using the opposite foot to each - some dark green sweatpants, partially wet as well, and a white shirt. I face my hands, inspecting both sides. Up close I can even distinguish the different ridges on the tip of my fingers.

I'm not near nor farsighted...

>It's not me! This is deliberate!

A feeling of both relief and imminent danger takes over.

I take a last look at the diplomas.

> Censored?! - Black strokes where our names should be, but everything else is legible.

> How have I not noticed this?! How was this not bluntly obvious before?

My bare feet give me a shiver as they take me right, towards the entrance. I kneel and start going through the entrance drawers.
Every...
...single...
...letter.
It's all the same! Censored white envelopes with nothing inside but blank pages.

> This is all staged! But why?!

The familiar sound of the mail slot plate on my door startles me.