Martha ran a small bakery in a town where people bought bread, but they came for the 'Forget-Me-Nots'. These were small, intricately decorated cupcakes that contained a carefully extracted, slightly sweetened memory of your choice.
Mrs. Higgins always bought the one with the memory of her wedding day. Mr. Davis bought the taste of his daughter's first steps. Martha made an honest living providing sweet nostalgia.
One day, a young man with sharp eyes and a cynical smile walked in. "I don't want to remember," he said. "I want to forget. My ex-wife's face. The smell of her perfume. Everything."
Martha hesitated. Her magic was for preservation, not erasure. But the man was desperate. She made him a plain, bitter cupcake with black frosting. As he ate it, his face went slack, all emotion draining away. He paid and left, a blank slate.
Martha watched him go, a sense of deep unease settling in her stomach.
A week later, the man returned. He wasn't happy. He was terrified.
"I can't feel anything," he said, his voice flat. "I thought forgetting the pain would make me happy. But joy is gone too. Hope is gone. You took everything."
Martha looked at the bitter cupcake mix. She had made a terrible mistake. She had given him true nothingness. She reached into her memory vault and pulled a jar labeled First Rain. She made a fresh, simple vanilla cupcake and handed it to him.
"This is free," she said. "A memory of the simple smell of rain. Remember the simple things, the basic joys. They will bring you back."
He ate it and a small, tentative smile touched his lips. He was human again. Martha threw away the bitter black frosting recipe, realizing some memories, even the painful ones, must never be forgotten.
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