Jane wakes up. She gets out of bed. She walks to the kitchen and pours herself some cereal. There’s a remembering person hovering above the refrigerator.
“I’d figure out what you are, ” she says, “but I’m sleepy.”
The remembering person is sparkly and glittery. It has four different wings and many different faces. It looks a bit taken aback.
“I’m invisible,” it asserts.
Jane points at her cereal. “The marshmallows shaped like purple horseshoes let you see invisible things. Also, the pink hearts make you invulnerable.”
“I didn’t realize,” the remembering person admits.
“I learned it from the Holy Books of Thelema.”
“What do the yellow moons do?”
After a moment, Jane says, “Do you need anything? I have milk and juice and water.”
“I am fine,” the remembering person says, and flits down to look over her shoulder at the cereal. “I am simply memorizing you.”
“It seems to me,” the remembering person says, “that a lot of bad things and a lot of good things happen. So remembering people watch everything that happens, and memorize it, so that it’s never forgotten.”
Jane considers. “Yesterday morning,” she says, hesitantly, “I tripped on the carpet and fell down.”
The remembering person nods. “And in that moment, you were not alone.”
“And I found a penny once.”
“Three hundred and seventy two times,” the remembering person says. “People are not very careful with pennies.”
“Yes,” the remembering person says. “And this, and that, and the other.”
Jane smiles a little.
“It’s hard to remember my birthday cakes,” she says. “I mean, sometimes. So it’s good that someone does.”
The remembering person lights on the edge of her cereal. It looks down into the reflective milk. It pokes a foot, gently, against the surface. After a moment, it flits back up to hang over the refrigerator.
“You don’t feel spied on?” it says. It sounds a little nervous.
“I’m just surprised,” Jane says, “that you’d find it worth watching. I mean, all those pennies, and the tripping, and such. And the pain’s never fun to see, and the joy’s a bit weird from the outside.”
“Forgetting people never realize,” the remembering person says, “just how beautiful they are.”
The sorcery of the purple horseshoes dissolves into Jane’s milk, and she is left staring at motes and dust. Then she drinks the milk from the bowl and puts it down and goes off to her room.
And in that moment, she is not alone.