《Xanadu》
Chapter One: She Once Existed
1
The second time he saw her, he realized he had forgotten where they had first met.
That night, he sat alone in a dimly lit bar in the old district. Outside, the neon lights reflected off the rain-slicked streets, painting the pavement in fractured colors. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco, alcohol, and aged wood. Conversations drifted around him, fragmented and distant, like radio waves from another world.
Then, she sat across from him.
"Drinking alone?" she asked.
She wore a dark coat, her long hair draped casually over one shoulder. There was a trace of amusement in her eyes, but not in a flirtatious way¡ªmore like she was testing something, waiting for a reaction.
He hesitated.
"Have we met?" he asked.
She smiled. "You don¡¯t remember?"
He frowned slightly, searching her face for recognition.
"We have?"
She didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she turned and signaled the bartender for a drink.
For the rest of the evening, she never mentioned their supposed past meeting. They talked about inconsequential things¡ªold buildings in the city, the color of the sea, a place they had both visited but at different times. Yet, throughout the conversation, he felt an odd undercurrent, as if she knew something about him that he himself had forgotten.
When she finally stood up to leave, he couldn¡¯t hold back his question.
"Wait," he said. "Where did we meet before?"
She looked at him, the corner of her lips curving into a faint smile.
"You¡¯ve already forgotten," she said.
And then, she walked out of the bar, disappearing into the shimmering glow of the streetlights.
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2
Back home, he tried to recall their first encounter.
He checked his phone¡ªno calls, no messages, no photos of her.
He scanned his memory, going through every social gathering, every fleeting acquaintance, every moment in the past few months.
There was nothing.
If they had met, he should remember something¡ªeven just a faint impression, a fragment of a conversation, the sound of her voice. But his mind was blank.
He leaned against the window, looking down at the quiet street below, an inexplicable unease settling in his chest.
"You¡¯ve already forgotten."
The words echoed in his mind.
What had he forgotten?
Or worse¡ªwhat had been taken from him?
3
The next day, he went back to the bar.
The bartender was wiping down glasses behind the counter. When he saw him walk in, he nodded in greeting.
"You¡¯re back," the bartender said.
He hesitated before asking, "Last night, there was a woman sitting with me. Do you remember her?"
The bartender raised an eyebrow.
"Which one?"
"Long hair, dark coat, distinctive eyes¡"
The bartender gave him a puzzled look.
"Buddy, you were alone the whole night."
He felt his breath catch in his throat.
"What?"
"You sat at that table for two hours. Didn¡¯t talk to anyone. Just drank."
A wave of cold unease washed over him.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "She was right in front of me. We talked. We¡ª"
The bartender gave him a sympathetic shrug.
"Maybe you had one too many."
He didn¡¯t reply. Instead, he turned and walked out of the bar, his steps unsteady.
Outside, the city looked the same as always¡ªordinary, unchanged.
But something was wrong.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. No messages. No record of a call.
Was she real?
If he couldn¡¯t remember their first meeting, and no one else saw her¡
Had she ever existed at all?
4
That night, he dreamed of a white city.
It was vast and gleaming, its buildings carved from smooth marble. The sky above was a perfect shade of blue, and the air smelled faintly of flowers.
He stood in an open square, surrounded by people speaking in hushed voices. Their faces were blurred, indistinct, like unfinished sketches.
Then, amidst the murmurs, a single phrase emerged, drifting toward him like an echo¡ª
"You have already forgotten."
He turned sharply, searching for the source of the voice.
At the edge of the square, a figure stood watching him.
A woman.
Her.
He tried to call out to her, but before he could speak, the dream shattered.
He woke up with a start, heart pounding in his chest.
Outside, the streetlights flickered in the darkness, their glow casting shifting patterns on the ceiling.
He whispered into the empty room¡ª
"Who are you?"
But there was no answer.
Only silence.