"Maggie!" Josh ran out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.
"Josh, you're dripping."
"I've got it."
His eyes searched the ceiling while his eyebrows and lips danced. "I, can't, remember."
"Finish your shower honey, you're dripping."
He waddled back into the bathroom, careful not to slip on the tiles.
It didn’t hit him as soon as the water hit. It took a while to sink in. He stood, steaming, holding the bar of soap. His eyes flitted over the tiles, but his vision searched the membranous shadows of his mind. The idea approached, unbidden from behind and engulfed him in light.
"I've got it!"
He snatched the curtain back, grabbed the towel, stepped out and called again, "Maggie! I've got it!"
His second foot slid on the tile. He grabbed the towel bar to steady himself, tore it out of the wall, but managed to stay upright.
When she came in he had the towel in one hand and the bar in the other.
"What did you do?"
"I slipped." He grimaced at the pain in his back caused by the sudden, awkward moves.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine." He stared at he holes in the wall.
"Why did you call me?" She asked, arms akimbo.
"Dang, I forgot again."
"I know how to get it back though."
In the shower it came to him again, quicker this time, brighter, clearer.
He called over the falling water, "Get a pen and pad! Quick the water's getting cold."