Chapter 1. A Meeting

'Do you remember seeing the stars? I do. They look so bright and luminous even from a far distance away.'

How many days have you been gone?

I ask myself that question too many times. It all gets too crazy when clock ticks furiously; day passes by without you being able to latch onto it. Just like a cycle of nothingness.

There was no more to be said. No more to be done.

I wasn't there in your dream, I guess. I was a simple outsider.

July 18th

Rain. She sighed when she walked past the familiar old shop. It was closed; it hasn't opened since sometime in the 1980s, yet someone kept it meticulously clean.

She kept walking down the road. Where does it lead to? Nowhere apparently. Flowers drenched by the downpour, slowly bowing its proud head to the dark clouds. True. Nothing was happy at that point. Looking at the long stretch of road in front of her, except for a grim red telephone booth, everything was grey.

Perhaps it is so. This world, she thought, is a greying mess. How can there be happiness if she can't feel any? This is a stupid proposition, she reminded herself, you are not the only person in the world. At the same time, the rain has never stopped.

Turning left, she found herself in her favourite coffee shop, ready to drink herself to sobriety.

Little did she know, he just walked pass right by the window, without so much as peering into the shop.

July 19th

It was the same routine. Just the same set of old repetition that she is sick of.

The world, she thought, would be so much more interesting if it was covered in gold and silver, instead of this runny substance. Everyone would probably be much happier.

'Excuse me ma'am', the coffee shop attendant interrupted her line of thinking, 'can this gentleman here join you? We're short of tables right now.'

'Sure, not a problem.'

She tilted her head towards the window, intending to completely absorb herself into the surroundings. Never mind there was a stranger sharing a table with her. This was her life, and her choice.

How much choice she had was really to be debated. In a town where rain never ends, she felt trapped by the water. It was as if people sinned endlessly, and the sky cried for them in repentance. Yet the reason was never explained. Either way, she kept her life going. Writing, reading, occasionally drawing and maybe some stargazing if her friends can persuaded to do so.

From the corner of her eyes, she can see the green-haired stranger smirking a little at her.

'What', she snapped rather quickly, preferring to be not judged by the general society.

'Nothing.'

'Then look elsewhere. You are disturbing me.'

'May I inquire on what particular matter?'

'That is entirely private. I mind my business and you mind your own.'

He tilted his head the other way.

'Miss, for someone at your age, I thought you would know your manner a lot better than my younger sister?'

'Who are you to judge me, then?'

'I will admit that I have no authority or permission to do so. However, may I point out the fact that as we are sharing a booth in this particular coffee shop, I have no choice but to observe you?'

'You're probably better off observing the road. That would be far more interesting.'

'I think not, miss; roads are full of people walk by each other and never making sense of what is actually happening. Whereas when you sit down with someone, they show you more of life than you would originally expect.'

'Oh really? In that case, I shall keep my silence.'

'Hmmm...Firstly, why do you object to me studying strangers? Secondly, I think your silence illustrates your character just as well as if you were telling me your entire history.'

'You are seriously creeping me out.'

'Which part, my fair lady? I admit to the fault of studying people's character, but I thought you were no different.'

'Well, I do not do it in a way that is definitive. You might think it's amusing to probe into people's history to intrude their living space, but I think it's infinitely nicer, and kinder, to give them a different story, so that they can at least have some kind of redemption.'

'How would you actually understand someone, if all you've known about them are just lies and wistful thinking?'

'Because, in time, people will eventually reveal themselves to you. Because, no-one wants to read a story where everyone is wicked.'

'Who are you, lady?' He smiled a little, 'you seem more optimistic than what your appearance may suggest.'

'I am a writer.'

'And I am a photographer. I am obliged by my own rules to reveal the harsh truth, and nothing but the truth.'

'But the camera can lie. You only capture one snapshot amongst millions of snapshots that amounts to their life.'

'Well, your pen lies just as much.'

And you are awfully rude for a stranger, she thought to herself.

'If you hate writers so much, don't bother reading them then. That way both of us are happy.' She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. 'If you will excuse me, I really must get going now.'

'Miss, may I inquire what your name is?'

She laughed. She smiled. But she would never betrays her name.

'No.'

'Well, in any case, my name is Ukyo.'

'Do not expect me to give you my name.'

'I am not.'

'Good. And good bye.'

Just beyond the last lamp post on the street, she could see a faintish sunset. If I create lies, she thought to herself, at least I can see the sunset.

AN: As much as the author would like to rewrite the entirety of Amnesia, I do not own any of the characters.