The Fragility of Memories

Chapter 8

"Ai'Wat!" he heard a familiar voice calling him as he felt his body being shaken. "Wake up, Sarawat!"

He slowly opened his eyes with sluggishness and a bit of confusion. He lifted his head from the white desk where he had fallen asleep while working and turned it toward the owner of the annoying voice.

"What?!" he grunted grimly with a somewhat hoarse voice, casting the man a glance that if eyes could kill, this would certainly be a corpse lying on the floor at that very moment.

Boss flinched at the look, taking a step back.

"I-I'm going to get some breakfast. I was wondering if you'd like to join me and if not, whether there's anything you'd like me to fetch for you."

Sarawat clicked his tongue as he rubbed his eyes and shortly after released a weary sigh, shaking his head.

"I'm not hungry," he said sourly, anger still lingering in his tone of voice.

Boss observed him with a hesitant expression for a few seconds and then dared to say, "You're sure?"

Sarawat shot him a hostile look and Boss threw his arms up in a gesture of resignation then turned around and left the room. He opted that for the moment it was best to leave him alone to cool down.

"See you," Boss said before closing the door.

Once alone, Sarawat inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, trying to soothe his irritation. Then he dropped back, resting his back on the comfortable chair he was sitting in. He massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingertips while he reflected, with a deep sense of nostalgia, on the beautiful dream from which he was abruptly awakened.

A dream like no other he had ever had before.

First of all, he fully remembered what had happened in it. This was something unusual since normally when he woke up, he was only able to recall fragments of his dreams in addition to these not usually having many details. But he remembered today's dream with extreme authenticity and clarity that it almost felt like a vivid memory. That wasn't the only strange thing about the dream: he had never before conversed with the main character, much less called him by a name. Well, he didn't remember doing so. The fact that the name was Tine was something he found disturbing. It almost seemed as if his mind was playing tricks on him; seizing the opportunity to finally associate the face of a young man product of his subconscious with the name of a real person who also looked like the boy of his dreams.

Though a part of him likewise believed that the two boys were the same person. The resemblance was uncanny despite the age difference. In fact, that was the only thing that differentiated them.

It wasn't just the physical similarity of the two boys that made him think so.

For some reason, and now that he was thinking about it, he had a hunch that the young man knew him: his reaction the previous days when their paths crossed hinted at it. Sarawat was quite good at reading people and the moment his eyes fell on Tine's, the man was like an open book in which he was able to uncover a flood of emotions not usually found in a person who had just finished meeting the other. He had also noted the whirlwind of sensations Tine provoked in him whenever he was in his presence in the same way that he knew his very presence affected the man. His body language showed him that. He had also noticed that since he had arrived in Huan Mian, everything regarding the subject had grown worse as if his stay here was a trigger or rather the city itself. All of the above mentioned somehow gave him the impression that he had met the boy in the past during the time he was on vacation there.

But he had no memory of such a visit.

His memories of that period were null as if the occasion had never happened. He had been able to recover most of his memory, and precisely the one that caused him the most inconvenience was the one that he had no recollection of. Furthermore, his family had already denied several times in the past having met or seen him with a person with such a description during the time they were in the small town. That is why he also firmly believed that all dreams related to the matter in question were just that; recurrent and unfounded dreams formulated by his malevolent subconscious.