We were sitting in Hazel's old house. We were talking about random things. I zoned out a little bit. Then someone asked me a question, removing me from the thoughts that consumed me.
"So you don't remember anything?" I immediately knew it was Frank, because he wasn't as sensitive as Hazel.
"No." I replied plainly.
"Do you think you'll ever remember?" Damn it Frank, c'mon. Why do you have to be so deep right now?
"Yeah, I will. Like when we were in the library, I knew one of my old friends would like it there." I remembered thinking earlier that some girl would love the architecture. I just don't know who yet, and I don't really want to tell them about the girl I've been dreaming of.
"So you don't know anything? At all?" Frank asked.
"No I don't."
"Not even you're favorite color?" He asked.
The girl I've been thinking of popped in front of me. I could see her curly blonde hair, her muscle, and her tanned skin. Then I saw the eyes. Every time I look into them I get lost. They seem so deep, deeper than the ocean could ever be. Depending on when I see her face, her eyes show different emotions. Sometimes I can see her laughing at me, her eyes light and joking. Sometimes in dangerous situations I see the gears rolling in her mind, telling me how to get out of this. When someone gets hurt, I see the years of pain in her eyes and somehow know that I've seen that look way too many times before. And when I feel lost, I see here eyes look as if they are searching for me. I can hear the faint Seaweed Brain in my ears. I know she longs for me just as much I long to return to her side, wherever that might be. But no matter what, I always see those beautiful orbs of grey intensity.
After a pregnant pause for my internal ramblings, I finally speak up.
"Grey. My favorite color is grey."