The memories we bury don't die; they sleep. And when they stir from their slumber, they arrive not as gentle reminders, but as seismic shocks. A tremor starts at the base of the spine, radiating outwards until your entire being vibrates with a forgotten truth. Time folds. The mind reels. This isn't just recollection; it's a collision of worlds—one you lived, and one you forgot.
How can a single moment unravel a lifetime?
If this is real, then what else have I forgotten?
Am I dreaming now, or was I sleeping then?
The pre-dawn silence in the small house was a fragile thing, shattered daily by a nine-year-old boy. At precisely 5 AM, Adam became a force of nature, a whirlwind of limbs and noise. His father, only twenty-eight but carrying the weight of a man much older, was dragged from the depths of a hard-earned sleep. The man's patience was a well that never ran dry, though some mornings it came dangerously close.
In the other room, his mother Jamila slept beside her three-year-old daughter—a child so serene she seemed to glow with her own soft light. But Jamila's peace was a thin veneer. When awakened by her son's chaos, a flash of crimson fury would ignite in her eyes—a storm only her husband could calm with his quiet, grounding words.
By 5:07, the household was a symphony of disarray. The baby's cries harmonized with the frantic beeps of the old computer, where Adam, now oblivious to the chaos he'd created, navigated the pixelated worlds of Donkey Kong and Crash Bandicoot. It was 2005—an era where graphics were simple, but a child's imagination could build universes from those colored squares.
When the school bus's horn blared, reality intruded. A frantic scramble for shoes, a backpack snatched in haste. Outside, the ritual with his friend—a complex handshake of claps and jumps that felt like a sacred oath. But as he boarded the bus, something shifted.
His eyes met hers.
For a span of three heartbeats, the world narrowed to her smile. Not just a greeting, but an echo. Her rosy cheeks and bright eyes were familiar in a way that defied logic. It was a smile that felt like a key turning in a lock he didn't know existed.
Adam's returning smile was different—tinged with a dawning, inexplicable recognition. It was the first thread pulled, the first domino tipped. As he slid into his seat, the chill began its slow crawl up his spine. The memories weren't just waiting in the past anymore.
They were here.
To be continued…
© Copyright Ibrahim Abdullah.
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