Memory Drive

Prologue

The blinding white light from the baby-blue sky illuminated us enough to create a soft burn, one that I deeply cherished. There has been one physical trace on this Earth for me, along with two colors I once loved to combine, emitting darkness and brightness, representing caution and energy. It was unfortunate how I grew tired of seeing those colors to the point where they felt dull and uninteresting.

All of it used to lead me to a particular one-story house or an institutional building with an aerial view of something resembling two Pac-Man ghosts, if only they were more square-shaped, and a point on a map that eventually connected two people, allowing us to lose ourselves long enough to create an unspoken memory.

Unspoken to her.

Unspoken to me.

Unspoken defined what we were.

Of what we had become.

Of what was happening.

Of what was yet to come.

We were no longer at home. We were, as she'd say, in unfamiliar territory, and in a hot place, where my scalp itched badly, with sweat running down my neck and forehead, likely following a path onto the collar of my gray linen shirt. The heat would test my patience with the world, but not with her, because deep down, I always knew it wasn't her fault.

Instead, I just glanced at her doing a carefree, barely noticeable little dance because she had a song stuck in her head, humming as the two delicate strands of hair that stood out from her previous lifted hairstyle moved with her. It almost seemed nearly impossible for her to keep anything in, smiling zealously to do everything she could for me, attempting to share whatever could brighten the day and improve my sick mood even more. This was the season she was meant to experience. It would surely get stuck in my head, too. Hopefully soon.

Hopefully forever.

Her diversion crept onto my steadiness. Small things startled the best in her, and I knew that aspect of herself... the unpredictable and happily oblivious part was just as infectious as her vibrant charm.

She was contagious in her way. She meant brightness and energy to me.

I couldn't disregard how she, too, was mean, incredibly weird, and challenging.

And somehow, all of that fused so well with this muddled trip.

Capturing the moment in the magically burning day only made me grow quieter because I only had a couple of hours left before she'd leave.

Watching her live in silence with that dress she was so proud of wearing, taking in her presence while she engaged in either a dumb or bedazzling thing, listening to her soprano voice talk about everything she found charming or intriguing or annoying or unconventional, and having her restrainedly tease with me would eventually all turn into quiet, and the unsettling feeling of leaving her behind climbed in the walls of my reluctant attitude.

The notion of it felt strange to digest.

What else could I do but respect what she wanted? I'd respect her wishes from the beginning of us... even when I felt like doing otherwise.

That was my biggest concern: to know exactly when I wanted to do otherwise.

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