[ WP ] Poor people are able to pawn off their memories .

No clue why he'd bought it. One of those brunch Sundays followed by a stroll on the main. He'd been in there before, but never bought a memory. Maybe it was the title: *Isaiah*. A simple title for a memory, and he liked the name. But in any case he'd bought it, took it out to his car. The business certainly brought cassettes back into business -- something about the antiquity of the device seemed to hold memories better. More expensive, more precious memories came on vinyl, but he was no collector. At any rate he felt lucky at the time that his junker had a cassette player already so he would n't have to buy one; that'd be plain inconvenient, really. 
 
 He did n't have headphones, which he'd been told helped absorption. That was probably a good thing, because he could barely handle it as it was. 
 
 Shaking in the dark of his room, he tried to push it out. At this point, he knew this person was less desperate for cash than they were to get this out of their head. And what a gyp, this was n't one memory... it was a web. He'd heard of that before, that they were often too interlaced to fully separate from others -- echoes forced their way in no matter the memory. But this... this was an entire world of neurological pathways being activated. This led to that, that led to the other -- every memory of Isaiah pushed into one long moment of beautiful, beautiful pain. 
 
 Isaiah! 
 
 He saw him everywhere, he dreamed of him, was haunted by him. 
 
 He loved him, so, so much. 
 
 He did n't even know him! 
 
 Isaiah. The creator of the memory could n't live loving Isaiah in this painful way, knowing he was gone. He saw Isaiah -- it was bloody and the memory holder had seen it and now he had, too, and it broke him into such small pieces he worried that with every reminder of the memory he would split like an atom and destruct entirely. 
 
 It had been four hours. He walked to the bathroom, wash the tears off his face. A glance in the mirror and he saw someone new, just briefly. She was n't beautiful, the way Isaiah was, but that angel reflected in her eyes and became her. The memory holder. 
 
 He had to find her. He had to give it back. He did n't want this memory anymore. 
 
 - 
 
 `` I do n't know an Isaiah,'' she said plainly. Of course she did n't. 
 
 `` You gave away your memory of him, please, take it back. I do n't want it. I do n't want it anymore!'' he pleaded. 
 
 `` Why do n't you just pawn it back?'' 
 
 `` The clerk said he would n't take it back! He practically gave it to me, said it's been there years,'' he was getting desperate, fell to his knees, pleading. 
 
 She looked at him with pity and disgust, like he was a starved dog covered in fleas. 
 
 `` I must have given it away for a reason,'' she said thoughtfully. `` Why do n't you want it?'' 
 
 `` I...,'' if he told her she would n't take it back. `` I have an irrational fear of... the subject of it...'' 
 
 `` That sounds like a lie. How did you know it was my memory, anyway?'' 
 
 `` I saw you in the mirror, I talked to the clerk and found your name, searched. Look it's been two weeks and I'm terrified, please just take it back. I'll pay you anything.'' 
 
 She almost seemed to believe him, paused for what seemed like an eon. `` Okay. $ 800.'' 
 
 Money was no matter at this point. He thanked her and they went to the shop to transfer the memory. 
 
 `` Are you sure you want this?'' the clerk asked her. 
 
 `` It'll cover my rent this month,'' she replied passively. 
 
 They hooked themselves in. Ten minutes for full transfer. 
 
 Six minutes. 
 
 Three minutes. 
 
 One minute. 
 
 `` There. It'll take a moment for it to actualize in your neural pathways. Interpersonal transfers are always a bit more tricky,'' the clerk said. `` Have a good day.'' 
 
 He placed a pre-written check in her hand and saw her eyes go wide. She seemed to stop breathing and clutched her chest, making a strange choking sound. 
 
 `` Hey, do you need an ambulance or something?'' he asked the lady. 
 
 She fell to her knees and let out a strange sob, a sound he'd never heard before. `` Oh god, Isaiah!'' she wailed. 
 
 `` I... I'm sorry, who?''
