348. A Missing Question

I was asked a question. I’m fairly certain that’s what happened. We were walking and talking and I wasn’t quite following the conversation when suddenly there was a question sent in my direction. What the question was, I have no idea. A glance over at the other reveals nothing. I could ask him to repeat himself, but…

Asking for the words to be repeated feels impertinent. I’m worried that the question came with a certain weight. It was heavy enough that asking for it to be repeated would be an error. I somehow know this even though I can’t recall the question…

The only available option seems to be to say nothing at all. But surely I can’t say nothing! That would be even worse. A weighty question deserves a weighty answer. But sometimes nothing of equal weight is on hand…

Still, I need to say something in response. Perhaps I could just explain what happened to me. That my thoughts were too many and I was distracted. Or that the question was so powerful that it must have touched something hidden inside me, and I lost track of it entirely. I could say that I was so overwhelmed by the question and what it might mean that I just could not hold on to it. And now it was, for me, as though it had never been asked…

But it had been asked, or I wouldn’t be thinking about any of this. I can’t possibly offer up such an implausible explanation. That would only make me seem even more frivolous than I must already appear. I need to summarize the situation inside me, while somehow excusing my forgetfulness…

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, “I’m feeling quite fragmented at the moment.” The other nods in understanding but it’s entirely clear that he has not the faintest clue what I’m talking about. He says nothing in response, and we carry on walking. Regardless, I consider this an incredible victory. For I did, in fact, manage to say something. Now if I could only recall the question…