A scarf

She didn’t do it on purpose. It was neither a cunning scheme, nor a sophisticated plan to make people remember her. She never really meant to leave anything behind her. If anything, it must have been her elusive subconscious.

It seemed that this exact amount of alcohol – the one that already makes you do stupid things but not yet forget doing them the next morning – somehow always made her forget the cold, so that she usually realized she was without her scarf long after it was still worth (or safe) to come back for it without making an unnecessary fuss.

Closure

I closed the doors and breathed in heavily. The home-made wine combined with antibiotics was messing up with my concentration so I can’t say I was fully aware of what had just happened. At some levels I suspected what I had just done, but it hadn’t really come to me. At least not yet.

I turned off the light in the corridor and came back to my room, where on the desk stood the unfinished bottle of the damned wine, with two empty glasses next to it. Damned, because I knew I would finish it on my own now, regardless of the antibiotics. Just to soothe my nerves; maybe to help me fall asleep later on.

A scar

 

Whenever I decide to wear a short-sleeve shirt, my scar is perfectly visible. Actually, since it is right below my left elbow, it’s often enough to roll up the sleeve of a regular shirt to show it. And people usually do notice it easily. It’s huge, and it’s – not that I’m boasting – rather impressive: almost like some sort of a fancy symbol. A person imaginative enough would see something really amazing in it, like a decaying leaf or some tangled spider’s web.

A journey

As the train gathered speed, he suddenly remembered.

It came unexpectedly and paralyzed him, as if he had suddenly lost control over his own memories. The views outside the window were moving faster with every second, but he didn’t see them anymore. With eyes still fixed on the dirty pane, he sat frozen, half-consciously letting some old images flood his mind. Fascinating that it took only one little memory, carelessly let into consciousness, to cause the whole avalanche of forgotten details.