Oh, I just love being dead! Please note the sarcasm if that wasn't already obvious enough, and I'm not even a sarcastic person in general either, just saying.
It's not that I find it explicitly horrible or anything, it's just that it sure as hell doesn't feel amazing either. It's like that feeling where one has a really nice dream that feels totally realistic but then they wake up and realise none of that ever happened and they actually don't even remember, like, half of what even went on in the whole thing...
... and then, to make things worse, it turns out even the stuff they do in fact remember are just all jumbled up and shit! I mean, well, it's like they do remember a few stuff, but they just don't really know the proper context of those dreams in any correct order once they wake up so it all seems very faint... but they know they loved that dream and would have wished it were real.
Well, anyways, I'm they and that's almost exactly the kind of thing I'm experiencing right now. However, this is more awful because it's the real life that I've lived being forgotten just like those dreams this time.
And the worst part is I can't even vent out my feelings to anyone I loved like I slightly remember doing back when I was alive because I'm all alone here. There's no one I knew from then and no one I can, at the very least, see properly because it's all dark in here.
I don't even remember my death, all I know is that I've just woken up here in this random place. I do not recall my own name.
Life certainly chose not to flash before my eyes as I was being taken away from it.
So, I'm currently on a little bamboo raft sailing across a nameless black river. The background is shrouded in a type of darkness where it appears that I'll never see daylight ever again afterwards because it's just going to remain midnight forever.
Just that sweet, peaceful dead of the night.
(No pun intended up there, by the way.)
Honestly, it's not scary at all, really. I'm not being sarcastic, by the way, seriously.
I'm not actually all alone here unlike whatever I'd been saying earlier. There is someone – or something perhaps – else sailing the raft but they're covered in thick shadows so I cannot make out who or what it is. I just know there is another living being with me on the raft and it actually doesn't appear to want to hurt me or anything, though (but I can't be too sure, I can't even see it anyways). And I found out I was dead when I arrived here because this being had told me a few minutes earlier, "Welcome to the Afterlife. I'll be taking you to the Waiting Area now."
"So am I actually dead or... is this just another dream actually and I just happen to not remember my life in this? Am I gonna remember any of that when I wake up again? Does dreaming about the Afterlife mean that I'm gonna enter a drastic change in life later or something?" I ask after a very long interval digesting whatever they'd told me at the beginning. That silence was made of too much overthinking and severely mixed emotions.
"I don't think you'd really ask all that in your dreams of all things, to be honest. Dreams are usually comically meaningless as far as I'm concerned... especially whatever you'd been having back when you were alive. Also, most dreams are not as organised as whatever that is happening right now, are they? People rarely talk properly in dreams like this and they don't even question anything that goes on in them even if the dream is a million times more absurd and bizarre than our present interaction. No, darling, I'm afraid this isn't a dream as you probably hoped it would be." Their voice sounds deep and masculine but not in a human-like manner; it doesn't even sound frightening or anything, just mysterious as far as I can tell.
"Right. Got it."
"Your face looks upset."
"Well, I am actually not feeling happy, really... but I'm not even sure what to feel anymore. I just want my memories back. I feel like an amnesiac."
"Don't worry, I've encountered many other souls like you. Also... this particular place you are in right now is just for Christians. Do you recall the word's meaning still? Just asking."
"I just remember believing in Jesus but nothing else besides that. In fact, Jesus is the only name I remember right now, honestly. I don't even remember the names of my own family members."
"Well, I actually just asked that to see if I should introduce myself or not. I'm known to all as Death, if that wasn't already obvious, but in your beliefs, death is also an avatar of the Archangel Michael – which is one of the names I go by along with millions of others from various beliefs – and I sail this raft into the Purgatory, where you will thereafter continue with your journey alone, according to your own beliefs alone specifically (because I have other ways of taking other souls from other beliefs into their respective Afterlives separately). In fact, there was an old song called 'Michael, Row The Boat Ashore' written in honour of this job of mine. This river is not the River Jordan, though, as the song suggests. This doesn't have a name actually, but serves me a lot. I'm also omnipresent, so along with you I carry so many other souls on rafts like this on this same river, though you won't see any of them until you enter the Waiting Area aka the Purgatory, of course."
"So, lemme just guess... the Afterlife is different for everyone depending on their beliefs?"
"Yes. So, all religions are actually true. Thus, atheists and agnostics also experience their own Afterlives in ways they had viewed such when they were alive. There's absolutely no discrimination against anything beyond death and I have billions of other identities."
"So, anything else?" I am intrigued to know some actually necessary details further on in the hope that they would lead me to my memories. I can't accept my fate at the Purgatory if I don't even know what I did to deserve it, can I?
"Your fate depends on your Morality Spectrum, which simply means the amount of good or bad your soul has ever done in a lifetime: you have no control of that after death no matter what your beliefs are and it is only God who can decide your fate thereafter. And now there is no more left to tell you because we have arrived at your destination," Michael says and then I look over my shoulder to find a stationary boat dock.
But... I want to know more...
"Anyway, here's my final message to you because it may perhaps help you to find your memories. When you come closer to the soul of one you knew personally and loved very much – such as your lover or a close parent or perhaps your best friend – you might feel a bit strange and you might find yourself walking towards somewhere, against your will. You will then eventually find that particular person by the time you stop feeling those uncomfortable sensations. They can however be only felt towards one person, if there's many as such in the Waiting Area, and if that one was the closest to you above all the others in comparison. You can ask them to tell you your story the best they can. So, good luck then, Silver." The angel then simply vanishes into the air along with the raft right after I get off from it.
Oh well, that's fine, I guess.
It's not like it's anything I have to be frustrated about right now anyways. Perhaps angels have their own secretive oaths too. It's better to appreciate the efforts they actually do put into letting us know part of what lies ahead rather than criticising them for whatever they didn't require to tell us. (I mean, I'm still a little disappointed that Michael couldn't tell me a bit further about the probably more important stuff, though, but okay. We both literally wasted time by talking about dreams and how other people see the Afterlife, and then I wasted most of it on my own earlier by having a long period of useless silence for most part of the trip at the beginning!)
Still, the angel did give out some valuable hints to knowing about my life, however... and at least I know my name now. It's also unlocked a few newer memories for me, thankfully.
Silver.
I walk along the dark pathway beyond the dock where I landed from and slowly move forward – there's no other way to go besides forward because there's no other branching pathways or anywhere else I can go to – while attempting to arrange the jumbled up memories I do have into a sequence that should probably make sense:
I was in my late forties or early fifties but looked much younger because I'd maintained myself very well; I was married to a wonderful lady who wanted to change the world into a better place and had actually worked for it; I had a son, who must be an adult right now on earth I suppose, whom I also loved dearly as he was also the only memory I had of my wife after she'd left me forever; I had parents and a grandmother who loved me above all others and dearly helped me grow up into who I eventually turned out to be; I had friends who were such sweet darlings that they truly deserved much better titles to be known as rather than just calling them friends; I believe I also had a little dog whom, of course, I loved just as much as every human I've loved the most in my entire lifetime; I was also quite famous so there were many other people who admired and adored me even if I never knew anything of their own existences in return...
... and I was commonly known as Silver. It wasn't my real name, though. It was given to me as a lifelong dak naam because people found it hard to pronounce my real name and because my eyes were a metallic shade of grey that almost looked silvery. Silver eyes aren't very common among people of Indian heritage after all; I guess I only inherited them from my half-Mexican mother, which meant I was a 'Latin Indian', I suppose.
My real name, or bhalo naam, as I just remembered, was...
... something along the lines of...
... A. S. Thakur...
... Yeah!
But, like, what do the A and the S initials stand for? Looks like I will just have to find that out on my own then.
Soon I reach the ginormous steel gates of the Waiting Area (why does it even need gates if it's never gonna be closed anyways?) and I realise that when God created the Purgatory specifically, He probably had a penchant for water fountains because there's literally thousands of them in here. They all look like they're made from some greyish coloured ivory-like substance and are very much hauntingly beautiful indeed. They have black water, similar to what was in the river, spouting out of them; the water also looks distinct from the similarly dark background, which should be kinda impossible but that's how it is. The atmosphere looks like one of those lovely dark academia aesthetics you'd find on certain Pinterest boards. (Okay, yeah, I think I was probably addicted to that app like the typical Gen-Z girl I was, of course.)
But the fountains aren't the most interesting part.
It's actually the masses of souls in here.
As I enter through the gates, more souls pass me by and get into the place too: some rushing and being all frantic to find their loved ones perhaps; some calmly taking their steps slowly and observantly; some like me – just unsure of anything anymore with blank expressions on their faces.
Lord, I just know I'd never been this blank person like ever.
What has happened to me?
Had I brought myself into this situation...
... or is there someone or something else to blame for it?
And what if I never feel the sensations Michael had mentioned earlier? What if I never meet her? What if I never remember myself ever again?
Way deep down inside, I really feel like bursting into tears, screaming at everyone and begging for help, but all those thoughts are simply reduced to me feeling stiff and my hands clenched to my sides. I guess I was, in the same way, somewhat good at hiding my feelings from strangers. But perhaps definitely not from my family and friends, though, so maybe I vented out everything only to them. Honestly I'm not even sure, really, I could be wrong.
I just sigh heavily and relax my body.
I do not want to start any drama.
And I shouldn't even give up trying to recall my memories either.
Also, I literally just got here! Like, why do I have to feel like losing hope so soon anyway?
I will come to remember them soon enough. And only then can I carry the weight of my fate with me. Whether it's good, bad or neutral.
Oh, sweet Lord Jesus, please help me.
I surrender myself to You.
Anyways, moving out of my thoughts, I look around the Purgatory with its ivory fountains and radiant souls inhabiting it:
The souls look so similar yet so different at the same time. There's not a single white person or even any person of colour, but rather there's just translucent, grey skinned people that appear to be glowing in the darkness as if they've been created from radium (and thus being the only sources of light seemingly present here); they have hair of the same cement-like colour, eyes that resemble glass marbles and they're all wearing plain ghostly white robes as well. This whole scene reminds me of a somewhat popular Twitter meme I slightly remember seeing back during my late childhood.
Black or white, we all jus some egg fr.
Such true words tweeted by someone of culture indeed.
After death, race and everything else never matters; our souls are all just grey and look mostly similar to each other's no matter what their story is because we're all just human either way. All that truly matters in life are the memories we created, the things we did and the fate that ultimately lies ahead after dying. Our bodies were just vessels the souls used to work for their destiny in.
Also, isn't it ridiculous at how I keep remembering other useless meme shit instead of my own fucking name and other important stuff that I should be knowing right now? Wow, that's just amazing!
(And again, I really don't mean to be sarcastic about all that.)
Either way, the first evidence I had to accepting the fact that I'm dead and gone was actually the cement skin, strange white robes and absence of heartbeat. Obviously, I never had that kind of skin when I was alive, of course. I wasn't Joe Fixit after all, or even Green Hulk for that matter. (Well, now I'm just remembering a bunch of random comic book characters... Like, literally what, yaar?)
I actually still continue to breathe, though. Perhaps that's just a subconscious habit all souls have even after death.
And as I continue to observe my surroundings, I notice that there aren't any angels or at least any other 'staff' members operating in the Waiting Area either. It doesn't look like a total mess or anything, but it still feels strange to see a place similar to a lobby being unoccupied with some form of staff and, well, only consisting of the 'hotel guests'. The souls don't appear to be acting unhinged or whatever, which is why I said the place 'doesn't look like a total mess or anything' earlier. But then again, this isn't even an ordinary hotel lobby either, but rather the Purgatory itself so, yeah, there's really no point in expecting it to give out lobby vibes anyway. There isn't even any jazz music playing in the background either. What a bummer.
My wife used to be a part-time jazz pianist as I recall. I wonder if she's here...
Yes, she died before I did. I don't know how, when exactly, where or any other details but I know she did. If she's here still, I should feel the sensations that may lead me to her.
My son, my parents, my dog and my best friends are all definitely still alive (but I can't be too sure of this). The only people I loved who died before me, as I remember, were my lover and my grandma. But I guess my dadi had already passed away long before, when I was a kid or something, so perhaps she's already in Heaven now, hopefully. My wife died perhaps not too long before me (I'm not very sure about this either) so I'm just assuming she's still here. However, my assumption has a high chance of ending up as bullshit. She was far too good in her lifetime to remain in this Waiting Area now for even a second. I just know it. I know it!
That miserable world was never meant for one like her! It's never meant for good people because there's so many cruel things in there that they go through. Be it chronic illness or some other kind of sorrow I don't even remember much from there to talk about here.
I want to remember her name...
... but the word dies on my lips every time I feel like calling out to her now.
Memories of her still rush through my head like fast-forwarding flashbacks on old negative film rolls.
I can't seem to vividly remember any of them. Yet I do.
I'm so confused right now.
But then...
... I suddenly feel a sharp blow between my shoulder blades...
... and so, I look behind myself and around everywhere else quickly to see if someone had randomly hit me or whatever, but everyone else seems to be minding their own business. Anyways, once again, I'm suddenly being pushed out of my hot mess of thoughts – but clearly not voluntarily this time, though.
Something else literally pushed me out of them...
Oh my gosh, is it them? The sensations I'd been waiting for?
The blows arrive yet again: now they're making me feel like I have a heart pounding inside my chest even though I obviously don't have one; I also have a sudden terrible headache even though that should also be impossible now that I'm dead anyways.
I now feel like I'm being dragged by an invisible force (because that's actually what's happening here) straight towards the rest of the crowd way ahead beyond the gates...
Then I move somewhere towards the left...
I pass lots of people drinking from fountains and randomly disappearing (what?)...
Then the sensations finally stop.
To be honest, my whole vision had been quite blurry the whole time I was being dragged along so I'm not sure if the people disappearing after drinking from the fountains were real or just hallucinations or something. Like, seriously, what did I even just see that time?
Now, however, I finally catch the person who'd been the one true cause of those sensations.
For the first time in what feels like forever – I give the biggest smile I could ever give right now and, even though it's not actually happening, I also kinda feel tears of joy streaming down my face.
It's you... my darling wife, of course.
Amongst all the other souls roaming about here and there, there you are – about a few metres away from me, with your serene, beautiful, innocent and childlike aura – sitting by a large and lonelier looking fountain. You are looking straight into my eyes from the distance as you slowly stand up and begin to walk towards me. Your face also looks quite blank and emotionless, but that was expected. You see, unlike me, you were not a very animated person. In your lifetime, as I recall, you were mostly calm and quiet, yet perceived as cold and heartless by others for some reason, but I'd always known there was a very strange and wonderful soul deep beneath those swampy eyes.
Because I know, even while we were alive, when I used to look into your eyes (though it had been quite difficult for me a little) I'd seen this exact same utterly beautiful soul facing me even back then through your pupils.
Perhaps that was why you were always meant to be mine.
Okay, maybe I'm just acting a little lovesick for some stupid reason now. Come on, I was an el hopaness romtic back then! I'm pretty sure I haven't changed entirely just because I've lost my memories now...
But anyways, before you could reach me, I run over to you and lock you in an embrace filled with such intense longing that I know remained within my heart ever since your passing. Your frame no longer feels exactly humanoid, it just feels like I'm hugging a large mass of cotton, but I really don't even care about all that. It's just the person you are that matters after all. You're the smaller one of the two of us because you're a few inches shorter than me and you have a much more delicate frame than I do. Your straight and long grey hair flows down your shoulders. You look so adorably endearing.
Oh, how I wish I could remember your name now. It's still not coming to me!
I slowly pull away, keep my hands on the sides of your face and place my forehead against yours as I close my eyes tightly; I feel your arms wrap gently around my waist – oh, this feels so intimate already – and then I whisper, "It's you, it's really you!" I open my eyes and slightly pull away once again to take a look at you better. I continue to hold the dearness of your face in my hands.
"I missed you... I missed you so much..."
You sigh as you finally speak, "I have missed you too, Silver."
Your voice is tenderly soft and reminds me of molasses. It feels like I'm already in Heaven when I hear it finally after... like, perhaps so many years, I guess (ugh, I really don't know). But your tone sounds quite sad, though.
"Why do you sound upset? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, no, I am not— I mean... I'm— I'm just a little sad because of how soon you passed. I wanted you to live longer and go on with everything else normally... without me. I wanted you to start a new life without being depressed, that's all... Y-y-you could have done way bigger wonders with your career had you been alive still, you know. I just... just... know I had been a burden to you in my last few years... so I just wanted you to be more happier after I died at least." You look down at your feet with your lips pursed after we eventually separate from our embrace. I'm guessing that you're probably feeling a little embarrassed after all that stuttering. I wonder if you are also as overjoyed as I am upon seeing me or if you're just trying not to cry about something else. As far as I'm concerned, it had always been tough to specify such things precisely with you.
"You'd never been a burden to me... you were the source of my happiness... and the one I wanted to share my happiness with at the same time." I don't really know what kind of a 'burden' you're saying you were but I know you definitely weren't it.
You silently go back and sit down at the fountain and then I also go to sit next to you.
"So, what's the purpose of these fountains anyway?" I ask after a few moments of brief silence, attempting to change the subject for now. I kind of feel you might not take the news too well if I told you I hardly remember most of the things I did with you and don't even remember your name for that matter.
"Well... since this Afterlife is only for Christians, you will only find Christians here anyway – and our God apparently prefers judging us in this way: when you drink water from any of these fountains, you will be transported to where you deserve to be. These are the options for your future fate: Heaven, Hell, rebirth if you believed in such when you were alive or just remaining in here without any effect from the waters. If you believed in reincarnation, you may have to live at least a thousand lifetimes before achieving a very clear Morality Spectrum that could then lead you to either Heaven or Hell. If you did not believe in such, you will then be judged based on the life you last lived and be given your fate. You would usually be given either rebirth or just remaining in here forever if you do not have much good or bad deeds present on your Spectrum." There is a longer pause at the end which could be indicating that you're done with your explanation. You're staring right into my eyes again deeply with a very neutral expression.
"Okay, so is that it, yaar?"
"Yes, that's it, basically. I tried to make it as brief and to-the-point as much as I could, but I suppose the whole thing still probably would have sounded very boring for you, I know. I mean, you hated hearing long instructions and descriptions of a lot of... official type of details like that back in the day, didn't you?" Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did find it somewhat difficult to fully pay attention to long descriptions and stuff. In fact, I hardly even remember most of the details Michael was telling me earlier on the raft besides the things that would be truly necessary to know about for these present moments.
Oh, but, well, the sheepish smile that you're giving me right now, after whatever you were saying earlier, is what kind of makes me feel a little better about everything for once (although that boring 'brief' description and the smile probably would've annoyed me a little bit if I still had my memories, I suppose).
"It's not a problem, really." I smile back at you anyway. "So, are you given a choice whether you want to drink from the fountains or not?"
"Well, if you are not ready to accept your fate, you really don't have to drink anything here. You can just wait until the Last Judgement happens: the Apocalypse, you know, basically Jesus's Second Coming."
"Sounds fun, I guess," I say, giggling rather stupidly because I don't really remember much information about apocalypses as of now, of course. "Also... do you remember your past life with me?"
My expression darkens when I finally decide to ask that question.
"Yes. I remember every bit of my lifetime. My death was a much more slower process, so there was enough time for life to flash before my eyes right before I eventually arrived at the beginning of the Black River. That is where Michael rows his boat all the way to this place, as you should probably know already by now," you answer. "And... what about you? Do you remember everything?"
It sounds like you might be expecting me to say no to that.
I shake my head as I say, "I hardly remember anything. Just some bits and pieces," and I purse my lips for a moment before continuing to mutter, "but that's it, really."
"As is the case with most untimely and sudden deaths," you say quite bitterly with a slow nod but without surprise. It sounds like you'd probably been there when I'd passed away.
So, my death was a sudden one. But what could that really mean, though? No. Let's save knowing about my death for later.
Right now, I just want to know about my life most of all.
You stand up from the fountain and take my hand. "Come with me, I've got to take you somewhere. Somewhere we should be right now."
"Where d'you wanna take me, girlie?"
You don't answer as we head for the gates.
Hold on, can people actually leave the Purgatory? What is going on in here?
After silently walking around in between the rest of the souls, we finally reach the gates and get out of the Purgatory. However, instead of the pathway which I took to come from the Black River to the Waiting Area, now there's nothing but a big open door just in front of the gates like the entrance of a cathedral or something. There are some fluffy white clouds visible outside as if it is the door to Heaven.
It's not the door to Heaven, though, obviously.
"Whatever you do, do not let go of my hand until I ask you to," you tell me just before entering the doorway. "This is the Portal to the Living World. It is always open to all types of souls."
"Damn, so that's how y'all possess people?"
"Shut up, stupid. Quit skipping the point, will you?"
"Nah, woman... you're stupider," I say as I smile softly at you.
You roll your eyes and say nothing.
Then we enter the Portal and things begin to change in our surroundings. And now, everything appears to be of a blinding white colour...
Then it feels like we're floating through and beneath those steamy, smoky clouds that we saw through the Portal earlier before entering it...
Afterwards, we begin to descend into the world of the Living.
It's actually a very ethereal experience.
There is a faint sensation of wateriness as we pass through the clouds while drifting towards earth along with the light of our native star beaming warmly, almost very lovingly, across the land. Oh, it feels so damn good to see and somewhat feel the sun and its warmth after being in that beautiful darkness of the Purgatory for some time now. Entering the Living world and the Purgatory both seem to look like very alluring experiences that cannot be compared because they both feel so unique in their own different ways.
That is the beauty of God's design.
The place you and I are currently going to appears to be a big city full of cars and people and every other thing that should remind someone of a stereotypical urban city. The sky is currently in an elegant warm shade of reddish orange (vermillion?), which means it's probably sunset hours, I think. The place looks very familiar, though, so maybe that's why you had said that we're going to 'somewhere we should be right now' earlier. Eventually, we land on top of a very tall building where the rest of the entire place and perhaps even its neighboring cities around can be seen from up, too.
You sit down at the edge of the building and I join you. Neither of us appears to be freaked out that we might fall and die or anything because we're already dead anyways and freaking out about dying while being dead is quite possibly one of the silliest things a soul could imagine doing (duh!).
"While using the Portal, one of us has to make a will on where in the world we should go to and stay together with the others travelling with us at all times. If you ever want to go back the the Purgatory after visiting the Living World, you can always find that same Portal again once you ascend into the skies for it. And also, this is the place where everything began. Where your story began. Where your life came to be," you say.
"Wow, very poetic. Give this woman a round of applause, everyone!"
"Come on, Silver, be serious, will you? I'm just trying to tell you your story!"
"Well, you're not really even telling it, bewakoof. Go ahead then, please. I mean, not gonna lie, this place actually does look very familiar, though."
You chuckle. "Oh, alright, alright, then. Well, this is a part of West Bengal in India. Kolkata, to be more specific. This is where you were born before you shifted to Birmingham later and met me when we were childr—"
"Okay, so Bengalis are called... Bongs, am I right? Shundori, I'm a Bong, haha!" I interrupt rather rudely and I start laughing softly (but I've always looked very cute while laughing, I'm totally not bragging). I mean, okay, perhaps I'm only laughing 'cause I've always found the word Bong a little funny, to be honest. I seriously don't know why, but yeah. However, I suppose it has something to do with a few childhood or adolescent memories involving all those absurd Bengali stereotypes, though.
"Yes, and," you say and also smile a little at the whole crap I'm laughing about right now, "this skyscraper is The 42. It is the tallest building around here, I believe."
I say, "Ohhhh, right! I see... So, that's why this place looks so familiar," and then I continue to smile and look down at the city like a little kid.
"Uh, uh, it's beautiful, right?"
"Yeah... and also... for how long have you been dead right now?"
"I have not really noted the time passing, honestly. There is no time in the Afterlife after all," you say but then you suddenly look like you've just remembered something. "I mean... uh, I'm pretty sure I have been dead for about... maybe ten years now, I guess. Not a very long time in the Afterlife, I see. And... do you still... remember my name? Should I introduce myself or what?"
I turn to you when you say this. I definitely remember your face and a few other basic details but still not your name, unfortunately. I've already given up trying to remember it on my own so I just shake my head to the question. I speak very softly, my voice barely a whisper, "I hardly remember my own bhalo naam, darling, how would I remember yours?" I cringe heavily before I could even finish the sentence. Never in my life would I have probably ever thought of saying such a thing.
You shrug as you whisper in your painfully soft feminine voice, "Okay then, I will tell you. And before I begin telling you everything, just know this: in case you might doubt any of the things I am about to say, just remember that no soul can ever lie about anything after their body is dead. They can hide certain parts of stories if needed but they can never actually lie because they are incapable of doing so. Just thought of telling this to you, anyways."
"I'd never doubt you. Even if I don't know your name, I can still trust you. I could trust you with anything and I know I've always been vulnerable around you before, you know."
You smile and get a little more closer into me so that I could comfortably wrap my right arm around you from behind. (I wanna kiss you so bad, ugh! But I doubt you'll let me do so at the moment.) Then you say, "That is wonderful to hear. Also, nothing is ever forgotten, Silver. While you might think you have forgotten so many things, it actually means those thoughts are not organised well and you do not know where you put them. You have just misplaced them in your head," your expression brightens up a little more, "so I will try to help you find them so you could put them into place. I know it won't be a very difficult thing to do, to be honest."
"Right, I see. So, are you gonna tell me now or what? Tell me everything about both our lives and about everyone who'd also been around us at the time from the beginning to the end. I cannot wait anymore!"
You turn away from me and face the rest of the city below us from The 42. After a deep breath, with a more serious look on your face, you say, "My name is Madeleine Wolf, and this is the story of nos rêveries. I hope I remember everything well enough myself to say it all to you."