Write a Book in a Day 2017

cheekbones stood out against her face and the warmth in her smile was so genuine, I could almost feel it through the paper. Her dark, emerald eyes stared into his own in the photo, a look that suggested familiarity – maybe even something more. There was something familiar about her, but I could not put my finger on it. My heart beat faster as I looked at her – maybe it recognised her even if my eyes didn’t. Turning the photo over, I saw a note scrawled in pen: ‘ I’m sorry’. I had a feeling that the girl had written it, but I had no idea who she was. All I knew was that the two of us were wearing the same café uniform. I needed to find out. Rushing out the door, I put the photo safely into my pocket. Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had ten minutes before the morning shifts began so I sprinted as fast as I could to the café. I burst through the doors like a madman and noticed that the customers all went silent as they stared at my maniac entrance. I didn’t care, all I cared about was finding some answers to my questions. I hurried to the counter, showing the photo to my colleagues and asking if they knew the girl, but nobody had a clue. They stared blankly at me and shrugged. I pleaded for them to remember something, or anything, about her but none of them knew.

‘Impossible!’ I yelled, frustrated. ‘She works here, doesn’t she? How does nobody remember?’

I realised that I too could not remember her, yet she was once my co-worker. I was losing my mind. The photo was proof that she exists, that I knew her, but my mind was telling me something completely different. The confusion and frustration coursed through my veins with every passing second. I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach and my head was pounding. My hands were bunched into angry fists at my sides as I shoved open the café doors. Why couldn’t I remember?

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