Comparing Memories
“In all our lives, my sister only told me her stories twice. We never compared our memories, ever. I think because where they were the same, they were painful and obvious. And where they were different—even just a little—they were so important to each of us, that we hated each other for not remembering them as we did. For years, we couldn’t forgive each other for misremembering even the color of our grandmother’s scarf.”
— Daniel Nayeri, Everything Sad is Untrue
