My Name Is Memory

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"I have drunken deep of joy and I will waste no other wine tonight."

•°•°•°•°•

To the one from the star,

Did I ever mention that your sudden appearance was like a cruel jest in this pitiful life of mine? Just like a star in the sky, you gleamed like a beacon of hope -- the single light at the end of the tunnel that'd led me to you, to a bout of maudlin joy.

And I was intoxicated. Your presence, your care for me was intoxicating. And before I'd come to realise, I was getting used to it -- used to a comfort that didn't belong here with me.

Little did I know that joy wasn't forever.

I remember you waiting outside my school gates to walk me back home. Why were you so persistent anyway? Your job was to help me witness a miracle, not trail behind me like a bodyguard. But apparently, following me everywhere was in your job description too?

"You know stars aren't made of rock whatsoever?" I'd asked, and it hadn't dawned on me until then that I enjoyed these light-hearted conversations with you.

I...I liked them.

"Learned something cool today at school, eh pumpkin?"

"Pumpkin?" I'd stared at you, shell-shocked.

"So tell me then, what am I made of if not rock and glitter?" You chose to completely ignore the blasphemy of this new nickname!

"Gases, duh! Hydrogen and Helium mostly. You're like a walking atom bomb. Don't destroy my country, please. Thanks." I'd made a face and proceeded to walk ahead of you. Pumpkin as a name was so not done! And I was upset.

"Woot. Didn't realise I was that hot I could be a bomb?" You'd winked. And I realised that wink too was something I'd grown to adore. "If I am mostly gases like you said, I bet I smell nice."

And you did. You smelled like early spring when the remnants of winter perished and new flowers peeked from their buds. You most definitely did not smell like hydrogen or helium though -- not that they smelled of anything, really.

"Well, at least you don't smell like pig fart."

Your eyes twinkled, like you'd let me in a secret of yours. "Be glad, pumpkin. Else your home would be worse than what an atom bomb could do."

These little memories. These little moments of joy are the only things I have now. I hate begging. I've hated it since the day mom stopped caring and dad turned into a stranger.

Where are you? Come back, one last time. I have things to tell you. Lots.

•°•°•°•°•

A/N

I know there hasn't been much happening except for their silly banter, but I promise stuff will happen soon. I just want you to know the characters well enough before we take the next big step haha.

Thank you so much for reading!

~Jenna