a thousand memories

“Have you seen the news?” Baron paused. The question itself wasn’t exactly rare. His brother was always up to date with the news. There was always something to catch his attention. Always something that was interesting to him, and interesting to the both of them. And, every so often, it would be something so exciting, his brother had to share. “No,” he answered. “Why?” “You should. You keep missing out on things otherwise. Like now. Check the news. They’re calling today the most beautiful day in a decade.” He laughed. “Really? And how are they supporting that statement?” “Know what, look out. Tell me it isn’t.” He shook his head, even as he moved towards the window. And looked out. It was beautiful. Silver clouds covering the blue sky, with just enough gaps spread out for the blue of the sky and the gold of the sun to peer through. Down below, the air was pleasantly cold. It was like all of the city was in a large air conditioned room. “It is beautiful. But, I don’t know about it being the most beautiful day in a decade. How do they even provide evidence for such a statement.” “Check the news. The reports are long. Some even filled with technical jargon. Sounds legit.” He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to make a sound, a hum, or a yes, or something to let his brother know he was listening. He brother knew. He knew his brother knew, that he was listening. “Okay,” his brother continued. “Know what, you get your ass up off that chair. Go out. Take a walk. Have dinner somewhere nice. See real people. Be seen by real people. Maybe have some conversations. Just go out. Don’t be cooped up inside your wonderful apartment on such a beautiful day.” He didn’t want to. But, he couldn’t say no either. “Alright. I’ll do that. Talk to you tomorrow.” He left immediately. Put on his new sandals. He bought them last weekend. A new brand, opened a stall in the courtyard of the Gideon Mall. The Flea Market, the mall called it. Open on Saturdays. A strangely fitting name for a street market in the courtyard of the city’s biggest mall. The brand offered something unique, at least he felt so. There were fifteen designs in all. Fifteen colours for the soles and the straps. You could pick the design, pick the sole, pick the strap. Truly your own sandals. He picked a wide, flip flop design, green soles, dark brown strap. The strap was an upturned T written in cursive style. It was unique. Perfect. It was him. And, now that he looked at his feet in the sandals, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he bought them just for today. Outside, he agreed with the news. It was a beautiful day. Maybe, truly, the most beautiful day in a decade. At the very least, he couldn’t remember a more beautiful day since he moved. And, he’d moved two years ago. He walked east. Toward the park. Walking on the sidewalk. Not the slightest bit feeling out of place. Everyone seemed to be out on the streets. Everyone walking, enjoying the most beautiful day. Some by themselves. Some with friends. Some with their lovers. Some with their wives and the children. Very few walking empty handed. Some were eating snacks and ice creams. Others with drinks, takeaway mugs of coffee or bottles of juices or tea. The park was filled, too. Very few walking on the trails along the outside of the park. Most, almost everyone, on the grass. Sitting, reading. Just lying down, looking up. Playing with their kids and their friends. He lost track of time, just walking, in the park, on the sidewalk, aimlessly, going wherever his feet took him. And, at some point, the question arose in his head. Is this, all of this, real? Was he dreaming? It felt so much like a scene from a movie. And then, his feet came to a stop. He was in the old market. Outside a little building he couldn’t remember ever seeing before. Not exactly surprising. It was small. Plain. One story tall. Like a little cottage squeezed between bigger buildings. No sign outside. Nothing standing out. Nothing telling of what it was. When he looked closely, he saw symbols carved into the wall by the door. Not letters he recognised. Not like letters from the alphabet of any language. Like some obscure, forgotten runes. Why did he think that? More importantly, why did he stop here? Outside the little building? Why did he know it was a restaurant? No one else seemed to see it. Everyone just walked past it. And, no one gave him a second look, or a single thought, wondering what he was doing, and why he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk? He walked over. Put his hand on the door. Gave the gentlest push. That was enough. The door swung inward, opening without making a sound, smoothly. He stepped in. And closed the door. The inside was smaller still than the outside. A small hall. Three tables, with four chairs around each, well spaced, still filling the room. The tables and the chairs were made of wood. The same wood, from the same tree. He didn’t know why he knew that, but he did. The walls were bare. Painted a shade of white he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before. And, tucked away in a corner diagonally opposite from the door, a doorway, without a door, without curtains, without anything in the way. And, it was quiet. Like a different world, separate from the world outside. He liked that. There was something comforting about it. He sat down at the table nearest the doorway. And, a second after he sat down, she walked out through the doorway. A woman. His age. Pretty. A lot prettier than him. As tall as him. Thinner. Her hair longer. Falling to her shoulders. A light brown. Her eyes green. Like emeralds. She wore a white shirt and light brown pants. The moment she saw him, her eyes lit up. Like she was seeing someone she knew, someone she was terribly fond of. “Hi,” she said. Her voice higher. He didn’t know how, or why, he knew that. Her excitement seeping into her voice, colouring it. “Seems fitting that you’d find me today,” she said, sitting down across the table from him. “Fitting?” He asked. “On the news, they’re calling today the most beautiful day in a decade. You’ve seen the news? Haven’t you? Or, do you not see the news? That does seem like you.” “Which?” “Both.” She looked at him, her smile constant. No, growing wider and deeper. He looked at her, his face blank. The curiosity showing in his eyes. She shook her head. And steered the conversation elsewhere. “Let me get you something.” She got up from the chair, and dashed off through the doorway, inside. The room was bright. But, the light stopped at the doorway. Past the doorway was darkness. Impenetrable. Thick. But, he knew that was only an illusion. Like that video he’d seen on the internet of a road going into a woods. The road was sunny and bright, under a sunny and bright day. But, it seemed to drive into the night as it passed under the trees. At least, that’s how it seemed from the distance. But, as the car, and the person recording the video, drove on, and drove into the woods, under the trees, the darkness disappeared, and the road was bright again. Only different from before because of the shade from the tree cover. The darkness was an illusion. Just like in the video. There was light past the doorway, too. He knew that. He just couldn’t see it from here. Seemed like darkness because it was an illusion. But, now that he looked around, he couldn’t see any light bulbs. There were no windows either. And, all the light was the light from the outside. It was like the walls were see through, not for his eyes, but for the light. The sun was lighting up the room. Why wasn’t he surprised by that? Why, how, did he just accept that so easily? She returned, holding a tray in her hands. On the tray, a bowl, he couldn’t see what was inside, just the steam rising from the bowl. And a pot, and two mugs. She set the tray down on the table. Served him the bowl. And, only then, he saw that it was a bowl of noodles in soup. She poured tea into one mug, pushed the mug toward him. And, then poured tea into the other mug. Setting the pot down, and taking the mug into her hands. “I’ll have tea,” she said, “while you eat. So, you won’t feel awkward. Taste it. I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.” He had questions. But, he found himself reaching for the spoon, taking a spoonful of the soup and bringing it to his lips. She was right. It was to his taste. More than that. It was perfect. His eyes went wide, lighting up with delight, as he looked at her. She saw what she expected to see, and smiled, as if accepting the praise. He continued eating. She continued drinking the tea. All in silence. Not a word spoken. Not a word needing to be spoken. Until he finished the food. The bowl was empty, like he had licked it clean. He hadn’t. He just scooped out the last drop of soup with the spoon. And then, he reached for the tea. The mug was warm to touch. The perfect temperature. The ceramic feeling just right in his hand. The tea, however, was hot. As hot as it was when she first poured it from the pot into the mug. Steam rising the moment he picked up the mug. And, it was just right as well. The way he liked his tea. “What do you think?” She asked, breaking the silence at last. “What do I think about what?” He asked. “The food. The tea,” she said looking at him. She stretched her arms out, as she continued, “The place.” Her hands turned toward her, “Me. What do you think?” He shook his head. Confused by the question. “Don’t you find it all very familiar?” The question hit him like a club swung at him by a bloodthirsty warrior on the battlefield. He was stunned, first by the image. Why did he think of it like that? Then, by another picture. This one like a scene from a breathtakingly beautiful movie. No. It was a lot closer. Like a scene from a distant memory. He was on a vast plain, filled with bright green grass as far as the eye could go. Far away in the north, the snow capped peaks of tall and mighty mountains peeked down from above the clouds. In the distant south, the land blended into the sky at the silver horizon. And, in the middle of the plains, stood a majestic castle. A castle more beautiful than anything he had seen, than any castle had the right to be. A castle that felt infinitely familiar. The castle was four stories tall, numerous spires around the roof, numerous windows across the face of the castle. Behind one of the windows on the third story, stood a woman. He couldn’t see her from the distance. But, it was more than that. There was a haze over her. Blocking out her features. All he saw was the indistinct outline, a hazy figure. And in even that he saw her beauty. And, he knew her. The witch. The witch’s castle. The witch’s plains. The witch who was looking back at him. He was standing in the grass. When he looked down, at himself, he saw a man stained in blood. His own and even more of others. He looked further down and saw the green grass stained red. Starting with him as the centre, the red spread out. Staining the grass almost as far as his eyes could see. Further down, under the grass and on the earth, were bodies. Slashed. Cut. Shredded. Lying dead. Bled out. And then, he saw it in his hand. The long sword. The steel shining through the red. Blood dripping off the tip of the blade to the earth below. He looked up. The sky was blue, underneath the silver clouds. The blue and the gold of the sun peeking through the tiny gaps spread out. The whole thing looking like a stunning brocade. Like the most beautiful day in a decade. He gasped. And was back in the little restaurant. The tea in his hand. The steam rising to his face. And, the owner, the pretty woman, looking at him, leaning over the table toward him, waiting for his answer. Like the whole thing, the plains, the castle, the witch, the blood, was a dream. He shook his head. Stopped. Looked into her eyes. Nodded. “It’s strange,” he answered, honestly. “Not bad strange. Just, strange strange. I don’t know how to explain it.” She shook her head. “I get it. Strange strange. That’s my life. I get it. Really. You always felt different, didn’t you? All your life? I saw it, the moment I saw you. I guess the like recognise each other.” Once again, he was stunned. He did understand this. She was right. He did feel different. Always. No. Not since the beginning. It was a vague feeling at first. Like something wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Like he couldn’t understand it. Like, this itch, all over, only it wasn’t all over, he just couldn’t figure where it was. And then, he turned seven. The evening of his birthday, he understood it. For the first time. He was waiting outside his home. It was his birthday. His friends, his classmates, would be coming over. For the party. He was waiting from 4 pm. Then, it was 5 pm. Then, 6 pm. And, no one came. They knew it was his birthday. He’d given chocolates in class. They had all sung him the birthday song. They knew it was his birthday. Why weren’t they here, then? Did they not want to come for the party? Why wouldn’t they want to come? Was it because he hadn’t invited them? Did he have to? Didn’t friends just go over for the birthday party? Wasn’t that how it was in movies? Didn’t he go to his friends’ parties? When they invited him. Wait, did he go because they invited him? Did he have to invite them to his party? Weren’t they his friends? Were they just classmates? He walked back in, a little confused, a lot more disappointed. But, still smiling. His parents had got him a cake. A small cake. Just enough for the four of them. They got him presents. His parents. His elder brother. They sat down around the table. He blew out the candles. They sang for him. Then, they gave him the presents. He opened them first. A pencil case from his mother. A video game cassette from his father. A pen from his brother. And then, they had the cake. At night, as he lied in his bed, looking up at the night hanging down from the ceiling, he saw it. He felt it. He wasn’t like others. He was different. He didn’t know why he had that feeling. What was it exactly that took him to that conclusion. As the years passed, he saw with increasing clarity. He was different. The evidence was mounting, was high as a mountain. But, he never brought it up with anyone. And, no one brought it up with him. At most, his brother, and friends, described him as cold. Cold blooded, his brother teased. His parents didn’t like that. Never did. Every time his brother called him cold blooded, his parents scolded his brother. But, after some time, he saw it in their eyes. And when he looked back at the memories, he saw that look in their eyes, in every single memory. They believed it. They never said it out, like his brother did, but that felt the same. He was cold blooded. That’s why they scolded his brother. And then, he moved. And, everything just fell into place. Everything was just right. He gasped, again. And found himself back in the little restaurant. Looking at the owner, the pretty woman, who was looking at him, with that smile. It was like no time had passed at all. But, he felt like he had lived through all those memories, again, right now. “Let me walk you out,” she said, after he was done. He nodded. And waited, while she picked up the empty bowl and the mugs, and walked through the doorway, returning a minute later. Why, though? Why did he wait? The questions fell away the moment she returned. With that smile on her face. That light in her eyes. Like she had been waiting for him, for a long, long time. Waiting for him to walk through that door, into her restaurant. “Have you seen the news?” She asked. He was outside. She was inside, by the open door. He shook his head. “They’re calling it the most beautiful day in a decade,” she said. “Did you know that?” He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve heard that. Seems to be on everyone’s lips today.” “As it should. Seems fitting, doesn’t it? We meet on this most beautiful day? I hope to see you again. Tomorrow, maybe?” He nodded. “I guess.” “Bye then,” she said. “See you tomorrow.” Like she knew he would be coming tomorrow. She closed the door. Disappearing into her little restaurant, into her little world. He turned away. Returning to the world outside, the world he belonged in. Joining the people of the city, enjoying the beautiful day out on their walks. He walked on the sidewalk, headed home. Back home, he answered his brother’s call. “So, what did you do?” He shrugged, even though his brother wasn’t here and couldn’t see him. He just couldn’t help it. “You’re shrugging, aren’t you?” His brother said. “I’m not there with you, to see you shrug. Use your mouth, your voice, will you?” “I went out for a walk,” he answered, with his voice. “Ate out. Might have made a friend. I think I did.” “Wow. That’s wonderful. Tell me everything.” He sighed. Fell onto the sofa in the living room. Then, continuing to answer.