Memory Auction

In 2047, memory was no longer sacred. It was currency.

They called it "Mind Vault"—a sprawling marketplace of experiences. From the taste of mangoes in Havana to the terror of skydiving over the Andes, everything could be uploaded, polished, and sold to the highest bidder. Joy, pain, regret—packaged and distributed like souvenirs.

Leila Reyes wasn’t supposed to be there.

A quiet librarian, she lived an ordered life, untouched by the surge of neural tech that ruled the cities. But after watching her best friend marry and her mother slowly forget her name, Leila’s loneliness began to ache in a way no book could quiet.

That’s when she found the listing:

“TRUE LOVE — Raw, Unfiltered. 3.5 years. Complete package. No major trauma. Verified organic origin.”

She hesitated only a second.

The purchase was seamless. Within hours, a courier delivered a slim silver disc. Leila placed it behind her ear, let the neuro-gel bond, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, everything had changed.

________________________________________

She remembered long walks through sunlit alleys, a hand squeezing hers in the dark, arguments in a tiny kitchen over burnt toast. His name was Eliot. She knew the smell of his skin, the rhythm of his laugh, the way he’d look away when nervous.

But Eliot wasn’t real. Not to her.

Except… he was.

The next day, Leila saw him. At the flower market near Portway Square.

He was exactly as she remembered—tall, olive-skinned, a constellation of freckles beneath his right eye. He was holding a bouquet of daffodils and staring at her like a ghost.

“Anna?” he said. His voice trembled. “You’re… you’re back?”

Leila froze. Her breath caught, her limbs stiffened. A memory surfaced—one she hadn't lived but felt—of standing right here, five years ago, holding his hand, promising never to forget.

She turned and ran.

________________________________________

Later, in her apartment, Leila scrolled frantically through the memory logs. The tag on her new memory said only #Mem12137 — Consent Verified. Source: A. Sloan.

Anna Sloan.

Leila dug deeper. She found records of Anna’s memory donation—voluntary, clean, trauma-free. Just… heartbreakingly complete. Anna had lost Eliot, and rather than live with the hole he left, she had sold the whole story, purged the love from her heart.

Now that love was blooming inside Leila, poisoning her quiet world with longing.

She couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t not remember.

So, she went back.

To Eliot.

They met in the old bookstore where he once proposed—at least, in her memory. His hands trembled when she walked in.

“You really don’t remember me?” he asked.

“I remember everything,” she said. “But none of its mine.”

He stepped closer. “Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

Leila hesitated. “It should matter.”

He touched her face. “Then let’s make new memories.”

________________________________________

Weeks passed. Then months.

They built something real—or tried. But the borrowed love tangled with the new. She kept expecting his smile after bad jokes, his anger at forgotten anniversaries. When he surprised her, it felt like betrayal.

She wasn’t in love with Eliot.

She was in love with a memory.

In the end, she went back to Mind Vault. She paid triple the price for erasure.

It was painful. Violent. Empty.

But when she passed him again—weeks later, no longer haunted—he didn’t say a word. Just stared, like something sacred had slipped through his fingers.

Maybe it had.

Or maybe, some loves are meant to be forgotten—so others can be real.