In a dark, cozy room, not too big and not too small—just enough space for someone to live comfortably.
Tick-tock. With every passing second, the clock's steady rhythm fills the air.
A familiar voice calls Zak's name. He looks to see a girl in a beautiful dress, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't make out her face.
He tries to ask her name, but she only replies with a smile—a smile Zak wishes he could see forever.
As she looks at Zak, she says:
"You really are stupid," she says. "I already told you many times. It's..."
She knows Zak heard it, but he doesn't know what she told him. He tries to recall it, but...
"Um, you might think I'm stupid, but can you say it again?" Zak asks.
"You really are the stupidest person I know," she replies, still smiling.
"Alright, but it's only for you that I'll say it again," she concedes, getting ready to speak. Zak leans closer to hear.
"It's..."
BEEP BEEP BEEP! The alarm blared.
The harsh blare of the alarm ripped Zak from the dream's embrace. He blinked, staring up at his familiar ceiling, and felt the warmth of a tear tracing a path down his cheek.
He remembered having a dream, a vivid one, but its details were frustratingly out of reach. No matter how hard he tried to recall, he just couldn't.
A sudden, familiar feeling hit Zak: the feeling of missing something he didn't remember, a feeling of a gap that would never be filled.
He looked to his phone, the screen glowing in the dim room, and saw the time. A jolt went through him as he remembered: he had a shift this morning before going to class.
The dream, for a moment, receded into the background, replaced by the immediate, undeniable demands of his schedule.
"I forgot I have work this morning before going to class," Zak muttered.
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed. The comfortable warmth of his sheets instantly gave way to the cool morning air.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, his mind already racing with the day's tasks. There was no lingering thought of a girl, or a missing word—just the pressing need to get moving.