"He vanished...like a ghost...or dreams that slipped away when you wake up...."
Melchior finally lifted his gaze. "Why were you looking for him?" he asked calmly. "Did he take something from you?"
"No…" Alden replied, then trailed off.
He didn't explain.
He just went quiet again, staring somewhere far away.
Melchior frowned slightly looking at Alden's lost look. "Was the waiter… beautiful or have something interesting? Is it someone you can't forget?"
"What?" Alden scoffed reflexively. "No—he looked normal."
Then he hesitated.
"…It's just—something happened. When I bumped into him, my body moved on its own. I grabbed his hand."
He looked down at his own fingers, flexing them slightly.
"I just… wanted to apologize."
Melchior closed his book with a soft thud and sighed. Maybe it is better to distract him from whatever is in his mind.
"Have you found him?" he asked. "That ghost haunting your memory?"
"What ghost?" Alden snapped, then faltered. "…He's handsome. Beautiful."
