BLANK SLATE
“Hi, I’m Kristin,” I say.
“I know, we just met.” Their confused look, the one sometimes laced with mild offense, is one I’ve come to know well.
I’ve had this conversation at nearly every social gathering I’ve ever attended. It still happens, but not as often these days. Now when I introduce myself, I add, “And I have trouble recognizing people.”
They tell me they get it, saying they’re basically the same way, except instead of forgetting faces they forget names. I nod and we continue the conversation. Usually we chat for a while, either because it’s
