A LARK

Joel thought she was tough. It was just her impulsiveness that made her seem that way. If she ever stopped to think about anything for even one little second she'd crumble. That's what Joel's problem was. That was the difference between them. He thought too much. So here she was, in the Lacuna waiting room, getting him erased, trying not to think about it.

What was the point of the waiting room anyway? Why couldn't they just keep their word? She'd shown up on time. Clementine Kruzynski sat agitated on the brown, fabric sofa, watching the second hand tick round on the clock. Every tick grated on her nerves. It made her head throb. She'd been drinking last night.

'Excuse me,' she said to the receptionist, 'my appointment was for four-thirtyI've wasted an hour of my life sitting here listening to that goddamn clock,'

'I'm very sorry, we're running late today. Dr. Mierzwiak will be with you shortly,' the receptionist chimed robotically.

Unimpressed with the response, Clem slumped back down onto the couch, brushing a lock of blue hair out of her eyes. Blue Ruin it was called; the colour of her hair. She'd picked it because it was how she'd felt. She'd felt blue. She'd felt ruined. She noticed the middle-aged woman across the room staring at her.

'What?' What are you looking at?" Clem questioned the woman, wide-eyed. The woman, stunned at first, looked quickly in another direction.

"Do you really think you could look after a kid?" That's what he'd said to her, as though she was some incapable hopeless case. Then he'd said she slept with people to make them like her. That saying: "sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me," that was bullshit. Words hurt the most. Wounds healed in time.

Anyway, it hadn't worked this time. Dying her hair used to have this amazing affect on her. As a child she had been fascinated by snakes, the way they could shed their old skins and start again new, fresh and beautiful. When she dyed her hair a new colour it was like starting a new chapter of her life. The past was in the past and it couldn't hurt her anymore. The transformation: applying, rinsing and drying the new colour, once so therapeutic, had lost its magic. Tangerine had been the colour she was going to wear while a baby grew inside her. It was wholesome and warm. After their baby was born, she would let her natural colour grow through. It would have been the first time anyone had seen it since she was fourteen.

'The doctor is ready to see you now,' the receptionist said nauseatingly.

'About time,' Clementine replied.

She picked up her box of memories. It contained just little things, trinkets, gifts, everyday stuff really. Stuff that she used to love having around her house and now made her feel nothing but repulsion and bitterness. Though as she walked down the hallway towards the room where they would begin the process she couldn't help feeling a trace of unease.

'This is the mind-mapping process,' Dr. Mierzwiak explained again. 'It helps us find the memories that need to be erased. Then tonight we'll come over to your place and perform the erasure and you'll wake up tomorrow as if Joel had never existed.'

The doctor and his pesky little assistant "Stan" sat her down in a chair that looked as though the person in it should be shouting, "beam me up Scotty!" For the next hour and a half they presented her with Joel objects, forcing her to recall every moment of their two year union. They had had some good times. That time on the frozen lake. It was the miracle of her life.

Back at her apartment she sat, contemplating. Her future self, after the memory erasure was over, would see this place as normal. Right now it looked barren and loveless. Was this really the fresh start she was looking for? What about that other saying? The one about "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all". Surely there was some logic behind that. She had loved and lost. It felt like…shit. Joel had ripped her to shreds. She wasn't irresponsible. Damn him. This would show him.

They had told her she had to take a pill that would send her to sleep before they came in and began the procedure. She looked at it intensely. She just had to focus on the bad points of the relationship. The feeling of claustrophobia, the helpless dependence he had on her, his agitating silence, how he never knew what to say, ever. She placed the pill on her tongue. With her other hand, she raised a glass of water to her lips. As the pill slipped down the back of her throat she had an epiphany; Joel was her soul mate.

The effects of the pill took hold almost instantly. She had to find a way to stop it. She searched hurriedly for a pen. Her place was a mess. How was anyone supposed to find anything in this dump? Her vision began to cloud. With relief she found a felt pen. Unable to find a piece of paper she grabbed a pair of underwear out of her laundry basket, fresh from the Laundromat. On the back she scrawled her message: "Stop memory removal! I love Joel Barish", before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Stan and Patrick entered the apartment an hour later.

'Up you get sweetie,' said Stan as they lifted her onto her bed.

'Wow,' said Patrick.

'What?' said Stan.

'She's just really beautiful,' he replied.

'Yeah,' Stan said. 'Yeah, she's alright. Don't get any ideas though.'

'What? Why would you say that? What? You don't think I could get a girl like that?' Patrick queried.

'No! No, of course not. Just don't get any ideas.' Stan said as he began hooking Clementine up to the machine. He connected the wires methodically. Patrick went to the corner and sulked.

'Ideas,' he said, mainly to himself. 'What ideas would I get?' Just then he noticed a pair of underwear on the floor that appeared to have writing on it. He picked it up and read the note on it. Stan came over to him.

"So can we get started?" he asked.

Patrick stuffed the underwear into the pocket of his jacket.

'Yeah, what are we waiting for?'