During one's life, human sees numerous pictures, meets people in a fracture of a second memorizes what was seen. Those pictures, and faces, as well as information or names gradually fade from our memory as the time passes. But human brain is really amazing; no matter the time gap between "then" and "now", it'll recall memories that are dear to us. Sure it can't record the whole life from "then" to "now" but some certain moments will stay there, somewhere deep in your mind, in those hardworking brain cells and millions of nerves. For many, those memories are the precious ones. A mother could never forget the birth of her first child. A man won't forget the moment he met his future wife that easily either. Kids out there remember how they lost their first tooth, or their first day of school. Girls will forever treasure their first crush in middle school and how they doodle hearts in that pink diary they kept under books in the lowest drawer.

And just like that diary that will forever hold moments of one's life brain will do that too, only less efficient.

But not all the memories are pleasant and happy. No matter how much we try, there are parts of our lives that just won't leave us. Bad relationships, deaths and any kind of partings that ended up in tears will remain in that back part of our brain, forever in our memory. And we don't want them to be the part of our lives – it all happened in the past. But the brain thinks otherwise…

Maybe all those memories, both good and bad, are there to teach us. Maybe our brain is doing us a favor by keeping those blurry images there. If we would to forget all those events, those parts of our past, we would lose an important piece of our being. Say that you don't want to remember how you broke up with your loved one, the person who you thought was your soul mate, and then you meet another person and fall in love; wouldn't it be convenient to know how to act around them? Wouldn't it be better to know your flaws in a relationship? Yeah everybody is different, not everyone wants a morning cuddle, but if you repeat the mistakes you already made, you'll always be at loss.

So, remember!

Remember as many things in your past as you can!

And then ask: What will be your lesson from that? What's the moral of your story?

Because people meet other people, remember names, learn new things every second; they hear, see, smell, feel and taste so many different things in order for their brain to memorize and hopefully remember those same feelings years later.

So, when you walk by a person on the street, don't just walk. Take a second to think about them, to look at their face or greet them with a smile, because every single one of them has their story. Every single human has pile of memories that all gather in one long tale. Remember that lady at the market who sold you fresh fruit and vegetables. Remember that librarian who found you the book you were looking for everywhere around the town. Remember that little girl who sat on the bench across from you, licking ice-cream dangling her legs which still didn't reach the ground. And remember that kind young man who served you fresh and tasty morning coffee.

Because you never know: someday you might meet those people again and share your stories with them. And they'll share their memories too… because we are all original characters with our original stories.

We are all different yet somehow connected; it's either that we don't see that or that we ignore the fact that all people are the same, no matter where they live, what they do, what race they are or who they believe in. We are all connected by something undefined, by that "red string of fate".

And just like everybody else, every human has a story: you, me, that guy in the subway, old grandma from across the street, chef in your favorite restaurant, cashier in the convenient store, policeman in the patrol car and even that poor homeless man who sleeps in the dark alleyway.

Those same stories, those happy, sad, painful and joyful memories also live inside certain young man's mind, buried deep for no one to see as they can't be exposed to others. He always saw those memories as his weak point as due his profession, he couldn't meddle with them and gather them in his own original story. And because of the path he took in life, he discarded those memories for a reason. With the current life he was living, painful times, dark times of his early life weren't needed and he only wanted to forget them completely. Drugs, violence, women… it was all in the past but it did leave a big scar. At times, that big scar across his chest ached and he would grip the already tight pearl white dress shirt to "ease" the pain. That would be followed by a curse, click of a tongue, some more nasty words muttered under his breath and a glass of strong Japanese sake. His colleagues would nag about him drinking on the job but it would always be brushed off with a wave of a hand.

He wanted and gained a new life. He turned his life around completely to the full 180°. He went from skinny and nasty punk to a professional grown up man with a career and lifestyle everyone was jealous of. He built his life anew, left the old residential district, abandoned everything, started from scratch, worked hard, studied, worked more and now instead of smelly, dark and wet street, Roronoa Zoro lived in a cozy apartment located in a peaceful neighborhood, had three meals a day in decent portions, drove as decent car as he could afford and had a professional career he was proud of.

And he met people; he saw faces wrinkled in pain, wet in tears, stained in blood; he saw eyes lost in fear, distress, anger and sadness… yet he proudly wore a badge around his neck. It wavered on his chest as he walked to his office. He was respected and proudly called a detective. It took him years and years of pain, hard work and bitterness to climb from lousy errand boy who ran around the police station, to officer, captain and to his final rank as a detective. He investigated murder, he was pulled back to his past numerous times but he walked through all of those with success and head held up high. He failed many times but every time he stood up and learned from those failures – those were lessons, that was the past and memories he didn't want to forget… unlike everything that happened almost 15 years ago when he was yet another brat in the neighborhood whose parents were unknown.

Zoro once again clicked his tongue to the memory of the past and took his badge along with car and apartment keys, ready to leave for yet another busy day at work. He couldn't rely on young ones just freshly out of university forever so he always left for work two hours earlier to finish leftover paperwork until new cases start flooding in directly on his desk. Being in his late twenties, Zoro was respected by both his senior colleagues and those younger ones even though he knew that not everyone agreed to the fact that a young person like him has such a high position. But he didn't pay attention to envious looks - Zoro had much serious things to think about such as the message that just made his cell phone ring atop of the car's dashboard.

"Drug dealer killed. Come straight to the Marley Street."

Policemen didn't have time for long messages so as short as it was the clearer it seemed and it was enough for 28-year-old detective to make a heavy turn with tires leaving marks on the asphalt road, turn on his car's GPS system and with full speed along with blue rotating beacon on car's roof head straight to the location where his colleagues gathered evidences, reports from civilians and investigated one man's death.

Seeing the brand new black Ford stop behind the yellow tape, a black haired man with sunglasses hurried to the car, ready to report to the higher officer. Recognized in a moment, Zoro was allowed to pass the tape guarded by policemen and just in the moment he put the badge around his neck, his assistant came to him.

Without a word of greeting, other man started: "Boss! It appears that the house wasn't even his; the real owners are on the vacation. When old lady there called the police to report a 'possible burglary' she provided details on our wanted man. She said that she saw him this morning through the window as he was on the phone with someone. After that was nothing."

That was their way of doing their job: policemen never had the time for idle chit-chat; they were always in the race against the time because every second counted.

"Good work, Johnny," Zoro praised the other man.

And even though they were around the same age, even though they were in the same class in the academy, Johnny felt the superiority in Zoro and always referred to him with respect and honor. This young agent with sunglasses and short black hair admired and looked up to Zoro as his idol, doing his best to one day be as good as his boss.

Two men made their way carefully through the opened front door of the house. As he heard from others, the owners of the house were contacted and no matter how much they tried to reassure those people, police agents just could stop the young couple who lived there from coming back so they needed to work fast until they come back from Bahamas and start meddling in police's business instead of enjoying the honey mood.

"From 7AM, when the grandma called, 'till now we have 3 hours. In her report, his yelling on the phone stopped around 7:50 which means that that's around the time he was killed yet no one noticed any people leaving the house," Zoro said, carefully looking around the hallway before entering the living room where the lifeless body of a bald man was lying on the floor. Around him weren't many stains of blood but the hole right between his eyes made the detective frown.

"We've been looking for him and now when we found him – he's dead," Johnny added.

"My thought's exactly," Zoro frowned more.

"Roronoa, you're late!" a deep voice came from the living room and Zoro looked up at the masculine man. He really didn't need his nagging.

"Lay it off Smoker and just tell me what you found out," Zoro looked back at the killed drug dealer, wanting to avoid any unnecessary arguing. And regardless of quite the age gap between them, Zoro addressed the senior detective so familiarly. That arrogance never left him – it followed Zoro from the earlier days in the slums, through school and up until now.

Older man let out a sigh and not wanting to argue with his colleague started his report "Simple, there was no sound of the gunshot which means that they used the .9 mm silencer. From the type of the shot it seems that it was a gun of .45 caliber, my guess is M1911. No signs of struggle, neighbors didn't hear any screaming which means—"

"They ambushed him," Zoro finished and went to the back of the house. Putting on the gloves, he opened the back door and carefully went outside. His eyes quickly locked the print of a shoe in the dirt by the door. Looking on the other side, he saw another one, meaning that the killer wasn't alone.

He went back inside and on his way saw pieces of dirt on the floor from the back door and to the living room. He took off the gloves and turned to detective Smoker, "Guys who killed that bastard were just some lackeys – they waited outside, listening to the conversation on the phone which was probably their boss, calling for money. This guy was already in a debt and I assume that today was the deadline and yup, he's dead."

"Cut the fucking dark humor, Roronoa what—"

"Send that guy to autopsy and send the results to my desk as soon as they're done, I want them by lunch," he ordered the guys who buzzed around the room, taking evidences. They sped up on Zoro's commands, "And I need a team to fully investigate the back yard and around the house for any clues. Bitches probably took the cash and powder before they left…" he once again clicked his tongue, pushed the gloves in Johnny's hands and left the house.

"Playing a smartass as ever," Smoker put a cigar in his mouth but didn't light it up. He could never admit out loud that Zoro really did a great job – his eye was sharp and got every detail perfectly, combining them into a full scenario. That's why he was employee of the month for almost a year and that's why he had a brand new car which gladly left the scene, leaving busy policemen and detectives to do the minor business while he goes to have a decent breakfast.

Resetting the GPS to the street where the bakery and the coffee shop was, Zoro drove slowly, analyzing the murder in his mind. Just when he thought he had him, the dealer was killed and new enemy came. He will probably have to deal with a mafia boss but it wasn't his first time doing it so he just has to remember the pattern he used in the past and work according to it. With little changes here and there, he will have one case less and one more folder off of his desk and down in the archive.

Black Ford stopped in front of the small bakery from which the sweet smell of fresh pastry and bread spread across the street. It immediately filled Zoro's nostrils even though the windows on the car were closed. He stepped out on the warm spring sun and, now with his badge off, made his way to the small store. Greeted by the owners with warm smiles, Zoro's order was up fast and he proceeded to the coffee shop across the street. It was a busy part of the day, the very morning where people carve for some good caffeine to go with fresh bread, donuts or any other pastry. As he had some time left before going to the office, Zoro sat by the counter. Just like in the bakery, the coffee shop knew his order and in just few minutes he will receive the hot cup of coffee to go with fresh pastry and with less in 30 minutes, he will finish his breakfast and head to the office to complete what was left unfinished.

"Hello, can I get your order?" he heard a voice asking but was already focused on the newspaper and the pastry in his hand.

"The usual," Zoro replied fast, reading the news.

"I'm sorry, you will have to be more specific," as he didn't expect for the man to talk to him more, Zoro looked up from the paper and met with gentle face, blonde hair and blue eye, "You see, it's my first day at this job so I'm still not used to the 'usual' orders," the man chuckled and Zoro froze. He certainly didn't expect that.

The man behind the counter smiled, wore the same uniform as the rest of the employees of the café – brown shirt and black pants which contradicted his pale skin tone and blonde hair pushed over his right eye. If he didn't have a small goatee, Zoro could easily say that he was a college student but despite the slim look of his body, the man was tall and a bit of masculine. His shoulders weren't as wide but it could be said that he was in good health. Silver tag on the left side of man's chest had his name engraved: Sanji.

Zoro looked up from the name tag, "Black coffee, strong and no sugar, please," he ordered and went back to the newspaper, putting down his breakfast to wait for the coffee.

As it was in his job's nature, Zoro observed people a lot: how they look, how they dress, what they eat or drink, how they talk or act around others… because everyone can be a criminal. Who knows?! Maybe that guy by table 12 killed someone even though he looks professional in his designer suit or maybe that girl with glasses sitting by table 9 – maybe she assisted in a robbery.

People are full of lies, stories, and facts that they don't want to tell anyone, and they all hide those stories… just like Zoro hides his.

"Order up!" Zoro looked up again at the hand that held a carton cup of coffee on the counter surface in front of him. He was once again greeted by the smiling face of a blond newcomer. He nodded and took the cup only when the blond man let go of it.

Weird guy, Zoro thought and took a sip, mixing the hot liquid with a bite of his bread which gradually started cooling off. After having his meal, Zoro put the money on the counter and left, making his way out of the crowd, on the street and to the car. It was time to face another day of difficulties.

...

Weekend means nothing to a police officer or a detective who's flooded with unsolved murder cases but no matter how many cups of strong black coffee he drinks in order to stay awake, every man has his limit to the all-nighters. Sunday morning rose with Zoro sitting by his desk in his apartment, staring at the large board where newspaper articles, written reports, pictures and many many sticky notes were put all together. But all those things led nowhere; no matter how much he stared at them those fluorescent papers won't tell him who the culprit was. Birds' chirping mixed with the sound of his raspy breathing as he licked his dry lips for a hundredth time already. Faint clang disturbed that peace as the mail dropped from the small opening on the front door.

Zoro closed his eyes and let his head fall on the back of large leather chair. The dark of his closed eyes made his thoughts immediately drift to the dark past and how the small group of boys beat up animals, smoke and played with girls twice their age. And Zoro was the part of that group…

His chest wound ached again and he opened his eyes – he needed to think about the drug boss, not those days which he wanted to forget so much. But one glance at the white board filled with whatnot made him frown. His mind was empty, tired and just didn't work as it used to.

Zoro stood up, deciding not to fall asleep but to go on the morning run in the park nearby. His idea was that the fresh morning air could give him energy he needs and sleep will only waste time. So, with new decision in mind, Zoro put on his gray sweat suit, sneakers he didn't use much, locked the door and ran out of the building, breathing the fresh air of a chilly spring morning.

Seeing how just a bit of air "gave him life", Zoro continued down the path and was soon in the park, running along the river, puffs of air leaving his mouth and quickly evaporating in front of his face. And as the sun slowly rose over the hills and bathed the river and the town, Zoro ran, clearing his mind off the problems he had an hour ago, crossing over the bridge and running on the opposite side he came from. And with that "clear mind", fresh air and enthusiasm running gave him Zoro quickly figured out that he was nowhere near his apartment building as he ended on the far other side of the river, probably a full kilometer away from home. Cursing under his breath, Zoro stopped by the bench and looking around couldn't recognize the area he was in. He never loved admitting that he was lost but now he just had to give up. Thanking a miracle that made him have some spare change in his pockets Zoro went to the nearby vending machine, put in few coins and bought himself a warm can of black coffee. The amount of caffeine he put in his body during last couple of days would make a breath test device blow up if he was actually drinking alcohol. Yet, the only result all that coffee was giving were dozen of sticky notes on the white board and sleepless nights filled with stress and roaming thoughts.

Taking the first sip and feeling refreshed, Zoro went back to the bench he stopped by but figured he could stay as someone already took it and he didn't really want any company in the morning, especially since he was tired beyond control. But when the person straightened up from doing some minor stretching on the bench, and when they eyes met Zoro had to stop.

"Good morning!" the man greeted him and Zoro only nodded, not knowing how his voice would sound after consuming only coffee and pizza and not sleeping for few nights. "It's a coincidence we meet again," blond man smiled and Zoro pushed a weak smile although his mind was slowly falling asleep, "Do you run too? I don't see you in this area… Do you live close by?" the man continued smiling and Zoro couldn't stay rude forever but he only shrugged.

What was that supposed to mean you asshole?, Zoro thought and as expected, his actions were only motored and not thought through as usual.

"I mean… I don't know where I am…" and usually, Zoro wouldn't say that to a complete stranger so he hoped Sanji didn't hear him. But blonde man sighed, still keeping on a smile.

"Where do you live?" Sanji asked.

"Charleston Street…" Zoro muttered.

A silence lasted as Sanji watched the other man in shock, "Then what the hell are you doing here?" as Zoro didn't answer, Sanji quickly brightened up the situation, "No worries! That's not… so far from here. We can run there. That is, if you want."

Zoro shrugged again, drank the rest of lukewarm coffee, crushed the can and threw in the bin before joining Sanji on the hill, "Fine by me," he said and stretched few times.

"I haven't introduced myself. My name is Sanji," he offered a hand and Zoro took it in a strong grip.

"Zoro; nice to meet you."

Sanji smiled and nodded, "So, how was the coffee that morning?"

The question made Zoro think for a bit before answering, "Not bad but different from what Franky makes."

"As expected! His coffee is premium league. I do everything like he does yet it's not the same."

"Well, I didn't say it was bad," Zoro said and started running, leaving Sanji thinking about what he said.

And blond man smiled, tugged the collar of his jacket and quickly caught up to the other man. He maintained his breaths to adjust with his heartbeats and the momentum his legs and arms moved. He felt his muscles waking up just how the town slowly woke up before them as they ran by the river, across the bridge and in the still slightly chilly spring sun.

And they ran, they talked, they breathed spring air that left their mouths in small clouds of steam which quickly disappeared in front of their eyes. And they laughed, they ran, their muscles burned under pressure, their minds clear with everything but the current moment.

Two men created yet another memory that will get burned in the large brain mass by millions of nerves and stay there for years. It will hopefully push those unpleasant memories but will surely be one more page in their lives. Because it happened; it happened NOW. They both forgot about their problems – about the murdered drug dealer and white board filled with confidential information, about the racing heart in danger and lungs that could explode. It was all nothing, it was all free and right there. They burned and they'll continue to burn. Both of them added one more story to their book, one more face to remember, one more name to call out to, one more hand to hold, and one more soul to love.

This is not THE END but a BEGINNING!

Note: This really was planned to be a slight one-shot or a prequel if you may for a fic that, I'm sorry, won't come soon. The idea is here and will be delivered just not yet... ^^ I leave it to you imagination to what'll happen in the future ;)