A Perfect Love
Most people would be happy having a photographic memory. Unfortunately in his case it meant he could remember nothing else but photos. For years it confounded every doctor, it baffled psychologists and therapists.
He tried to fit in, but it’s hard to rely on a pocket of snapshots to recall your friends at school. Each day, he would fish through his stack of Polaroid images just to find his way between his house and the steps of the school, and then another stack of photos to navigate the hallways of the campus. He liked airports, they always had visual infographics and those gave him a sense of information.
She on the other hand couldn’t remember anything except by the sound of the words. On the page or on a sign they had no meaning, simply a perplexing jumble of entwined images.
She didn’t find movies nearly as entertaining as the radio. Going to a concert help no more interest than just listening on headphones.
Imagine their surprise when they met at the art museum, he was there to stare at the images, and she was there to hear an exhibit of the history of phonics in art.
The moment he spoke she knew she loved him, and from the first time he saw her, he could never forget her.