Condensation beaded on the waxed cardboard tub and ran like tears over her knuckles. She lifted a neon spoon with an off-white dollop. Its glossy surface oozed and gathered heavily under the spoon. She touched it to her lips. Passed it between, but it still wasn’t right. 

She gently peeled off the headset, the haptic gloves.  She stared at the Desolation and wondered how to code the taste of chocolate. She strained to recall the creamy sweet flavour. Since war began, she’d survived within the fog of memory. She snatched at the echoes. It dispersed. What else can’t she recall?