Forget Me Not

I wandered back to the place I have long forgotten. My childhood room, with no feet to walk with, is trapped here, unmoving. Light seeped in through the tattered curtains that were loosely drawn to each side, casting a soft yellow light on top of piled dust that lined the windowsill. Dull toys lay scattered across the ground. Their limp frames longed for that playful tug, for those twinkling footsteps, that silent concentration. They waited with muted patience, only for her to never return.

Memories began to flood my mind when I took in a breath of weathered wood and faint smoke. I slid my fingertips across the bedside table, searching for something that is no longer there. The rough surface tore at my flesh like blunt splinters that hold no intention of letting go, gentle and painless.

I could almost taste the moss in the dark corners of this tiny wooden room — almost suffocating, almost unbearable. I was about to leave when the room began to shift and shake. Unable to stay balanced, my legs gave out from under me. I plopped down onto the small rickety bed and it let out a shrill creak, piercing through the silence like an unwelcome alarm. Dust immediately took flight — A thousand snow-like particles danced in midair. I could only look helplessly and watch the universe crumble as my nose itched furiously.

Then everything was still once more. Cold moonlight soon took over the place of retreating sunlight. The room became colourless. It was silent once again.

I got up to leave when a sharp blue within the muted grey captured my attention. There, on the windowsill was a single blue flower, reminding me to never forget.