The afternoon after the day at the park, Michael was sitting in the living room watching TV while one of Zara's therapists was helping her with speech therapy. He pulled the note out of his pocket she had given him that morning before and read:
Dear Michael,
I wish I could tell you this in my own words. I am starting to remember that I was a writer. I remember writing at my desk at home on my computer. I saw a show on TV yesterday that I remembered writing for, but I couldn't remember the people, or even what it was about.
What I really want to do is remember you. I feel like I may remember something sometimes, and then it just goes away as quickly as it came. When you are around and talk to me, I feel like I might remember something. The fact is, I know you don't have to take care of me, but you do.
