Memories: A short story focused on dialogue

"Memories! Memories for sale! We buy, sell, and trade!" 

The boy walked into the store where nothing was displayed on the shelves. The portly proprietor paused his sales pitch and smiled at the boy.

"Welcome! You came for memories, yes? I have the best selection, anything you could ever want! Perhaps a nice fishing trip on a lake? Victory in battle? First love?"

"You sell memories? Whose are they?" the boy asked, puzzled.

"Ah, your first time. They belong to no one now, but they could be yours. I take any memory you don't want any longer, and I'll give you a better one to replace it."

"But... they wouldn't really be mine."

Before the man could respond, the shop door opened, allowing an older woman in.

"Samuel, I need you!" she cried to the man, "I have had the worst day! Nothing worth remembering. Give me something interesting!"

"Of course, m'lady! Nothing but the best for you, my finest customer. Let me find something unique for you." The merchant went through a door behind the counter.

The boy watched the woman, who fussed with her clothes impatiently. Gathering his courage, he asked, "Ma'am? Did something bad happen today?"

The woman eyed the boy critically, then huffed. "Of course not! If something BAD happened, it would be much better than absolutely nothing! No, I just need a better memory to fill the day."

"But it wouldn't be really what happened," the boy ventured.

"And who would ever know? To me it would be what happened, and I would have the memories to prove it." The lady smiled.

"It isn't the truth. It's not real." 

"Who cares if it was really what occurred? To me, it is. That's all that matters."

The boy frowned and said, "Don't you have anything you like remembering?"

"Oh, I have so many wonderful memories!" the woman sighed, "I've seen my children grow up to be wildly successful. I've been the star of films, adored by millions! I have traveled to every country, been to space, conquered nations, and won championships in every sport!"

"That's impossible. You can't have done ALL of those things!" 

"Of course not. But I remember it like I have," the woman said, and shook her head. "My, you are a foolish little boy! This entire conversation has been entirely unsatisfactory. I believe I shall trade it in for something better. Perhaps a chat with a king."

The boy saw that the woman would no longer bother with him. He left the store and bumped into an emaciated man who was standing on a corner and drooling.

"Sir? Are you all right?" the boy asked with some concern. 

The man did not respond at all. As the boy began to try once more, a businessman stopped him.

"Don't bother, kid. He's gone."

"Gone?"

"Nothing left. Happens all the time. Guy probably wanted to forget everything, so he traded them all away."

"Traded what? His... his memories?"

The businessman nodded. "What else? Some people think they'd be better off. He'll get carted away soon." With that, the businessman went on his way.

The boy watched the man walk away, thinking. He decided to go home. As he walked back down familiar streets, he looked around at the people he passed. He wondered which of them had their own memories, if any.

"Mom, I'm home!" the boy called out, shutting the door behind him.

Silence was his only greeting.

"Mom?" The boy went from room to room, searching. He found her in the backyard, watering her garden.

"I have to tell you, mom. I found this weird store, and…" the boy trailed off when his mother failed to react to his presence. 

"Mom? What's wrong?" 

"Hmm?" His mother looked at him, frowning. "I'm sorry little boy, do I know you? Why are you in my backyard?"

The boy stared at her. "It's me, mom..."

She tilted her head. "I'm not your mother. I've never had children. I've never even been married! You must be mistaken."

"No, I live here with you! This is my home! Why don't you know me?" the boy cried out, tears filling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but you're not my son."

"I'll prove it!" The boy ran inside, going to his room. He could show her, and this would all be a horrible mistake, a joke. He yanked open the door and stopped dead in his tracks. His bed, his posters, his toys... none of it was there. The room only had exercise equipment with some boxes against the far wall. 

"What did you want to show me? There's nothing here. Now, please leave my house, or I'll have to call the police," his mother said and pointed to the front door. The boy left slowly?, numb. The woman he knew was his mother shut the door behind him, locking it.

The boy plodded down the streets he thought he knew. Landmarks he had known while growing up threw him into question. He didn't know where to go, or what to do. But... maybe there was something.

"Memories for sale! We buy, sell, and trade! What can I do for you, my young friend?"

"Take them all. Please," the boy sobbed.

"Of course. If you'll just step this way… now sign here. Yes, good! Now come with me. You won't have to worry about anything ever again."