Conversations ✔

Alone.

Walking the familiar path alone was agonising.

She had hoped her dreams would be truer than this. How was it possible to have such a vivid memory of a place she apparently has never been to before? Was the universe playing a sick joke on her?
She looked around, everything was the same.

That's where they held hands for the first time in her mind as she had always wished they would in what she assumed was real life.

She looked again, that was where they sat together and laughed about the stories he loved to share.
And as she turned, she saw the yellow sign he said was blurry when he had her glasses on.

Therapy was clearly not helping. Why were the memories so prominent? Why did they feel so real? Even the dreams she had, or at least she thought she had, they were mostly played in this place.

Nobody wants to be alone. But she wasn't alone, she had people. Supportive people who wanted to see her thrive. People she needed, except one.

One person was unreal, a person she couldn't find anymore, not even in her so called dreams.

Her therapist called him her subconscious, one that kept her alive through the accident she doesn't remember happening. She remembered it as a story he told her. But the proof is in the bicycle she went to see, it used to be hers. In fact, her favourite object. Now crushed and in the local machinery recycling site.

She was offered a new, same looking bike which she declined.

"I don't want it. I don't think I can ride a bike again." She said.

Her life before him was blurry. She remembers loving that bike, but now the idea was too long gone. It was his bike now, which he crashed and got bruises.

He was a survivor, not her. His scars, now on her palms, looked unreal. Like she would wake up and be told it was just a simulation.

Oh, how she wished.

But much to her dismay, this was what was real. This was what needed to be dealt with.

"Oh God! Would you please not?" She pulled a face, mostly from disgust than disbelief.

He chuckled, "What?" He dragged the word, smirking and showing her that he knew exactly what she meant.

She fake gagged, "Hmmmm," shaking her head no.

"It's nice, actually. Try it!"

Her eyes bulged, "Fuck no!"

"Come on! You should try it! It's nice."

Determination graced her features. "I am not! Getting crumbs! In my coffee! No!"

He laughed, a genuine laugh that made her crack a smile. And of course she hid it by sipping her hot coffee.

"Okay, okay. Use my coffee then. Here," he put the ginger biscuit in his coffee, thus leaving no room for a no.

He was smart, she realized. Her eyes squinted at him, accusing him.

"Go on...take it." He was smiling, grinning in fact.

Her groan and eye roll was insufficient for him to relent.

She used her spoon to scoop out the small biscuit, stuffing it in her mouth and fighting back the facial expressions that threatened to give away how she really felt about a wet cookie in her mouth.

"And?" He asked, looking hopeful with that never dropping smile of his.

Doesn't he get tired? From all that smiling?

She wasn't even done chewing as he waited for an answer.

"It's not bad, but I'm never doing that again." She sucked in breath, ready to take a Remington out and smoke.

His laugh made her heart quicken its pace. Yes, a smoke would do.

And that smoke, now finished and time beckoning her to return to her post, ended with the fake memory that she used to think was real.

No, this was real. There was no such person in her life. There never was.

Her manager was the first person she saw as she walked in, and of course he wanted a word. He always did.

What was new was the person that walked beside him.

Oh hell no...

"My sweet little girl," her manager addressed her. An endearment that made her cringe the first few times she heard it. But she concluded it was because he knew about her story, the accident and all. Hence the treatment he gave her, like a fragile egg. It was nice, she didn't complain.

"This is one of your colleagues, he was on leave since you began. I think I mentioned it..." he continued, introducing them to each other by name, departments and all. His speech fell on deaf ears, her deaf ears. The man she was looking at was not supposed to exist.

Impossible...

"What?" Her manager paused his unending speech, and she noted that his hand was on this new person's shoulder. And boy was he tall!

"What?" She asked too, acting like she didn't know what her manager was asking about.

The new man smirked, and the manager just continued talking. Until he wasn't...

"Hi, nice to meet you." She heard from him for the first time since in her dreams. Her profiling was cut short. She had to close her eyes momentarily like a computer trying to process a command.

He doesn't remember me...

She shook his hand, after a moment of hesitation. "Nice to meet you too."

How does he not remember her? Did she really make it all up? Then from where did she know him? If not from exactly this place where they spent so much time together?

"Yes, so you will be working together with the rest of the team. One of you slacks, we all suffer. So we pull each other up..." she thinks she heard from Mr manager.

But his voice was dulled out, the person in front of her was real. He was real.

This boy's hand was rough... letting go was a great effort.

He sounded the same, he smiled the same. Hell, even smelled the same.

"I'm off to lunch, do you know where the canteen is?" He asked with a smile. His eyes held curiosity, just how she remembered them. He wanted to know what was on her mind, but of course, she was a stranger to him, he would not ask.

"Uhm, no. Can I tag along?" She found her voice, eyes locked on him.

His nod earned another word from their still there manager, "Alright guys, thirty minutes. That's all you get. It's a short day."

The universe really was playing the UNO reverse card on her. She wanted to scream.

He clapped his hands together, just how she remembers.

"Okay! Let's go." He nodded towards the staff exit and walked ahead of her, his jacket and demeanor too familiar to ignore.

She allowed herself to giggle at the sight. "Zoro," she muttered like she remembers she always did when walking behind him as his long puffy jacket represented a cape.

As they approached the door leading outside, he leaned down, startling her, and whispered in her ear, "I heard that..."

She wasn't alone anymore.

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