"Indeed?" Theodore looked down at her with marked interest, chin tilted as though he might be able to assess her skill with little more than shallow perusal. "I've never met anyone with an eidetic memory -- at least not one who has chosen to confide in me that skill." He resisted the urge to question her about it but then relented, his views of allowing others' their privacy falling prey to the social necessity of small talk.
"Would you say that you remember things vividly or as snapshots?" His grandparents, who liked to wax nostalgic about his long departed mother, had claimed she was smart as a whip and could remember anything she was exposed to, but Theodore rarely pestered them for further details. It only made the loss more poignant somehow.
Down the side street and into a small cluster of shops he'd never before seen, Theodore glanced around; his own memory was more sensory, and he knew he'd remember the smell of this place, the way the light shone down through gaps in old façades. The breath of tall grass and flower-perfumed air. Yes, he certainly did like it, though he knew he'd never be able to find his way back.
"It's lovely. Thank you for sharing this with me."