18 April 2016

Only Celia talks to me the way she does. Again, today, again: "Where were you yesterday? Where did you go?"

I was at her apartment for lunch. Why doesn't she remember that? I told her she needed to go to the doctor, if she likes doctors so much.

She got really pale and started to cry. She told me I came for lunch on Saturday, which I knew very well.

I don't think I understand the problem. It's clear as a bell to me. We sat in her apartment and had quiche and salad. I was nice. I am fine.