"May I kiss your forehead, Crimson?" She doesn't recoil or say a word, so I press my lips gently against her forehead. It's a tender and fleeting moment, but it fills me with a warmth that I can't explain.
"Just because a relationship has an expirat...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE PRESENT
CRIMSON DONOVAN
How our brain and memory work was a phenomenal yet confounding concept for me. Memories can be like wayward birds, fluttering about in one's mind randomly and choosing to land on the most unlikely heights, while the memories that truly matter fly off into the endless sky of forgetfulness.
Come on- someone might be asking you to call the police in a life-and-death situation, but in that haste, you don't remember whether it was 119 or 199 (Newsflash; it was neither). But you damn well remember the phone number of the beautiful boy next door- I know I still do, even though I was miles far away from him at the moment.
Some situations you remember could be bizarre and perplexing. It makes you think, "If my brain remembers pointless things such as what the weather was like on Friday last week and it forgot the science I learned yesterday for the quiz today, I wonder if I could've been the next C.S.Lewis or Leonardo da Vinci provided that my brain had chosen to remember all the necessary stuff in place of all the meaningless junk that takes space there."
Did that confuse you? Don't worry, you'll forget what I just mentioned even before you finish this chapter.
I even remember the phone number a random stranger who saw me seated leisurely in the park had scribbled on my arm with a marker once, whilst I don't remember his name -that one word- which I'm sure he had introduced a few times in that long and slow hour. Speaking of, maybe I remember his number because it took me ages to remove that permanent and messy scribble from my arm. Of course, I hadn't contacted the annoying stranger whom I had only known for a few minutes with his advances he thought were flirty.
Hmm, in conclusion, what you could gather from this rambling is that I remember phone numbers very easily(which is totally not related to my story by the way).
What your brain chooses to remember was really weird that way...
...I might be going to lengths to prove my point only because I gawk audibly at the house standing entrancingly in front of me.
" 'I-ge nae eo-ril-jeok jib-i-ya?! ' "
My Dad slaps his hand over my head, "We are in the USA," he says as if we didn't just fly down on a plane. "Speak in English and not in Korean now that your Grandfather is not here breathing down your neck 24/7."
I rub my head with a scowl. My innocent American father had completely transformed after being under the influence of Asian parenting, indeed. Nevertheless, I repeated my question in English this time, "This-This is my childhood house?"
My Dad rolls his eyes for the third time as I ask this question once again. "Yes, Crimson, yes."
"How- Why don't I remember any of this?! I'm sure I would've recalled living in a majestic house like this! Is it really ours?"
