Middle School Dance

I faced rows of jars in the dimly lit memory aisle, each holding a piece of my past. Some memories were fragile and painful, while others held cherished moments. Fake Death's gentle voice broke the silence in my mind.

"Would you like to check another memory?" He asked.

I hesitated, uncertain about which memory to explore next. He must have sensed my reluctance because he asked.

"You're having second thoughts now?"

My response was quick and eager. I nodded, indicating that I did not want to further my suffering.

Fake Death suggested, "How about one more to make it five?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his bargaining tone. "Five?"

He nodded. "Let's make it five. Just check another memory, and you'll be able to see the fifth memory."

"Why does it feel like you're negotiating with a child?" I couldn't help but grin.

Fake Death shrugged, though I knew he wasn't physically present to show it. 

"Aren't you?"

I chuckled.