Saturday Yes-No-Yes

no sat between two yes. looking ahead and then sheepishly, thinking both had been sufficiently distracted - no exaggeratedly sneezing - it looked at both quickly. and then just as quickly back. for no saw in an instant they were identical: not just the two yes, but all three of them. and this disturbed no to the core, always believing there was only one no. which the yes already knew: what no knew the yes always, always knew, because no's memory was dead: following each, to no it seemed anyway, of no's miraculous discoveries followed an instant forgetting. and so the yes always, always knew what no knew. all three never budging an inch from their bench for some 250 years. for some 250 years they sat side-by-side, so there was nothing no knew the yes didn't. what separated them was no was alone, and thus always forgot, having no-one to confer with, no-one to agree with, no-one to argue with. but the yes being two chatted at each drop of a hat - which no did constantly when sneezing - and so always, always remembered. until no-one returned that is: having conferred, agreed, and argued with no for some 250 years, no-one forced itself back on the bench. next to yes