When his therapist first suggested the idea of a memory jar, he had scoffed at her. “What’s the point?” he asked her. She smiled patiently at him, she was always calm, it really pissed him off sometimes. When they had first started their sessions, he often found himself purposely being awkward in an attempt to ruffle her feathers. But nothing ever broke her clam demeanour. After a while he had given up, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.

“It’s a good way to remember the good things that have happened. Sometimes it’s too easy to only focus on the negatives that we forget about all the good things.” He rolled his eyes at her, choosing, as he often did, to not verbally reply. “Why not give it a try? It can’t hurt.” She suggested with her ever present smile. He sighed, knowing that there was no point refusing her suggestion, she wouldn’t let up about it unless he gave it a shot, even if he didn’t believe it would be of any use.

He stopped by a store on the way home and bought a mason jar and took it home. That night, he sat in his small apartment and looked up memory jars on the internet, wondering if it was necessary to put the effort into decorating the jar with ribbons and hot glue guns when it would most likely end up in a box somewhere in a month. After watching countless videos on the subject, he finally decided that there was no point decorating it and put it on his kitchen counter before he went to sleep.

After two weeks, he returned for his next appointment. Half way through their session, she asked him about the memory jar. He frowned. “I haven’t put anything in it.” He admitted quietly. She wrote something in the notebook that always rested on her lap without a word before looking back up at him, that perpetual smile on her lips. “Have you even thought about the jar these last two weeks?” she enquired curiously. He shook his head. She cocked her head to the side as she observed him, “I still think you should seriously consider it. A lot of my patients have used memory jars and they’ve found them to be quite useful.” She said encouragingly. He sighed, “What sort of thing should I even put in it?” he asked as he ruffled his hair in frustration.

“Anything that makes you happy. It doesn’t need to be something huge or life changing. If you hear a song that you like, write down the singer and the title and put it in. If you hear a funny joke, try to remember it and write it down. If you meet someone you like, write it down.” He nodded as he promised her that he would try to have something in the jar before their next appointment.

When he left her office, he was wracking his brains as he tried to think of something to put into the jar. She had told him that he wouldn’t need to tell her the contents of the jar unless he wanted to, but he still couldn’t figure out exactly what to write. Everything he thought of that he could possibly write just felt so trivial.

He got into his car, his radio springing to life, loud music blasting through the speakers. He clipped his seatbelt into place and started to reverse out of his space. He cursed loudly when he felt another car collide with his. “I do not ing need this.” He muttered as he killed the engine and pulled on the hand brake.

He got out of the car, ready to give the other driver a piece of his mind. His curses died on his tongue when the other driver stepped out of her car. “I am so, so sorry!” she said as she rushed up to him. Her eyes were red like she had been crying. He knew that this car park was solely for patients and the doctors, she didn’t look like a doctor, so he figured she was a patient here, just like him. “I’m so sorry, I was so worked up that I didn’t even see you pulling out of your space.” She said as she pushed her hair back with both her hands. He sighed, his anger melting away but his frustration staying.

“Please don’t call the police. I can pay for the damage.” She said as she fumbled in her bag. “Here.” She said as she handed over her driving licence. “My name is Park Da Hee.” She said as he took her licence from her, he noticed that her hands were shaking. “I don’t have any cash on me right now, but I can give you my phone number, you can take a photo of my driving licence and my number plate. I don’t think the damage is too bad, if you want I can follow you to a garage and we can assess the damage now?” she said, her voice shaky.

He ruffled his hair and let out a sigh. He looked at their two cars, she obviously hadn’t been driving too quickly, there wasn’t too much damage to either car. He was going to need his lights replaced and there was a dent in the bumper that would need to get fixed. Her car had suffered similar damage. “I won't call the police.” He said. She smiled in relief. “Thank you! Thank you so much.” He looked back at her, a part of him wondering why she was seeing a psychologist. He often wondered about the other patients that he encountered during his visits. He was dressed plainly in a comfortable t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but the plain outfit complimented her figure. Even though her eyes were puffy from crying, she was still pretty.

“Do you want to head to a garage now?” she offered. He shook his head, he was tired after his session, they were always mentally and emotionally draining. “I’ll go tomorrow.” He said. She nodded, an almost thankful look on her face. He figured that she wasn’t in the right state of mind to be thinking about heading to a garage. “Okay, if you want me to go with you, then call me. Or you can just call me and tell me how much it is and I can give you the money.” She said as she fished a small notebook out of her bag and carefully wrote out her name and number. She ripped out the page and handed it to him. “You can call it now if you want, so that you know I’m not giving you a fake number to get out of paying.” Despite his annoyance at the accident, a tiny smile made its way onto his face.

“Are you used to being lied to?” he blurted out. She blinked back at him, “What?” He took the paper from her outstretched hand and held it up. “You're trying so hard to make sure that I know that you're being genuine about wanting to pay for the damage to my car, it seems like you're used to being lied to.” He said with a shrug. She frowned at him. “Look, I’m just trying to do the right thing here. Someone hit my car once and gave me a fake number and I ended up having to shell out the money to pay for it myself. I just want you to know that I’m not just gonna hit your car, ask you not to call the police and then disappear.” She said, her tone defensive as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Yoongi held his hands up in surrender before pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I didn’t mean to offend.” He said as he typed her number into his phone and hit the call button. She pulled her phone from her pocket when it began to ring. She held it up to show him his number on the screen. He ended the call and took a photo of her driving licence. “What’s your name?” she asked as she looked up from her phone. “Min Yoongi.” She typed his name and licence plate number into her phone.

“After you take your car to the garage tomorrow, send me a photo of the receipt and I’ll send the money to you as soon as I can.” She said as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Ok. I’ll message you tomorrow.” He said as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry again.” she said as she headed back to her car. Yoongi watched her as she climbed back into her car. She let out a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair again as if to calm herself down. She carefully reversed then drove around his car. He took a quick look at the damage to his own car before climbing back in. “Good memories my .” He muttered before pulling out of his space and heading out of the car park.