Five suicide attempts but the doc released her; to me, her Care Coordinator. It was instant love. I could lose my job; but it was real mutual love.

But I had a problem. I made things vanish. Each morning, as I woke, the next thing I touched – poof! Gone. Then ok for the day. Weird? I took to wearing gloves in my sleep. When I woke I touched something disposable – a piece of paper, anything useless.

She was understanding. We made love, and took precautions, more than most – a condom, and gloves, in case we fell asleep. It was real love. She was happy, for the first time since she could remember; and my freaky problem became, with her help, manageable at last.

My birthday morning I woke to the most beautiful smile, and a tear of love. A gift. We kissed, and I wiped the tear away. Poof! She’d removed my gloves! I knew then why she needed me, loved me.

The doc covered up her disappearance. Removed all her records, as if she hadn’t existed. He lets me lie low, among the crazies in here. A birthday gift to me.