“Sorry I’m late!” Erik said, bursting into Dr. Mah’s office. The door almost slammed behind him before he could catch it at the last moment. Sweat peppered his brow and along his nape after he had run five blocks because he’d gotten on the wrong bus and almost went to the other side of town before he noticed his mistake.

“Well hello to you too.” Dr. Mah said in a light tone. She was wearing a lilac cardigan that matched little lilac snake earrings.

Sheepishly he stood against the door, “I got on the wrong bus. The secretary said I could walk through to yours.”

Pointing to the couch with the tip of her ballpoint pen, she stated, “For sure, come take a seat.”

“Thanks.” He took a seat, the couch cushion wobbled and creaked beneath his weight. He placed his leather bound book to his side like always.

“This book of yours, have you continued filling it?”

“Yeah, here you can look through it if you want.”

Dr. Mah’s eyes ran up and down the pages as they read, little notes of coworkers like Mariana or the bus driver, Ali. Though she stopped at a small drawing of a sun next to a word she didn’t recognize. “Kunym? What does that mean?”

“It means the sun in Kazakh, its like a term of endearment. Talvi told me I used to use it all the time.”

“Do you use it now? Since you developed amnesia?”

“No.”

She didn’t add her opinion as he would’ve thought, “It’s good to hear that you’re creating bonds.” The skin crinkled around her eyes. “But I have another question for you.”

He nodded at her, “Shoot.”

“I have had many, many clients with amnesia. But the pattern that usually arises right about now is a feeling of frustration and a bit of…” Her hands wobbled like she was trying to find the words, “Loneliness or isolation? Have you had feelings like this?” Dr. Mah switched to another page on her notebook.

“I mean it can be a bit frustrating. You want to be able to joke with your friends but then they reference something; a memory or inside joke which is long gone by now. It does feel a bit lonely.”

He shifted on the couch, running his fingertips up and down the spine of his notebook, “It’s like I have so many questions that I don’t even know how to answer. I want to know about my parents, my childhood. Did I play little league, was I a dancer?”

“I just want to remember something other than the glimpses and echoes that I’ve had so far.”

Dr. Mah’s scribbles ceased, and for what felt like minutes upon minutes she stayed silent. Not even a word to tell him that he’d been heard. When she finally spoke it felt like a tilting edge, “Maybe you just don’t want to remember. Maybe you’re not strong enough.”

Taken aback, Erik’s face contorted with confusion. Eyebrows furrowing and his words puddled with confusion. Honestly he hadn’t been sure if he had heard her correctly. Her tone of voice was still light and airy, as if in the same sentence she’d shared anecdotes from her day so far.

He watched her silently, any potential words dying on his tongue. She simply stared back, eyes steady and still. “Maybe you don’t deserve your memories Erik Nabokov, have you thought of that?”

The air rushed from his lungs, leaving behind the sharp glass that pinched his chest together. He could only muster a cracking and soft, “What?”

“Are you deaf? Or dumb? Maybe its the amnesia, did it take all of your brain cells too?” Her head tilted to the side but the rest of her didn’t move. Her face did not contort or betray her as if what she was saying was some kind of bad joke.”

“Why would you say that?”

“What?” She played coy for a split second before an arrogant smile spit out, “I’m here to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Shooting himself up off the couch, his chest began to shake with anger. Fury and embarrassment twisted his view of her into a blurry one. He did not spare her another glance before leaving the room with haste.

“Erik! Erik! What are you doing?!” The walls shook as he stormed out, the door slamming like a thunderclap through the small office.

Heavy breaths like he was breathing fire propelled Erik out of the building and onto the street. The day had dimmed next to incoming sooty clouds slithering through the sky. Her words felt like cattle burns on his skin, her face was almost joyous as she had uttered those words. It made him nauseous just to think about it.

Erik felt cool droplets slide down his skin as his lips trembled. The slight droplets quickly turned into downpour, filling the streets with rain, Erik watched as it ran down a nearby storm drain.

Analyzing his fingers as his nerves were wound with electricity, Erik muttered, “What the fuck is happening to me?”

The memory shot out like the snapping of a bowstring through the air; fog refurled to show a broken signboard banging in the wind. The Blue Boar Hotel. Once white and now beige, the signboard had a snarling boar looking him in the eye. Erik could hear gravel beneath his feet, crunching as he made his way closer. But unluckily, the sound of ripping duck tape stopped the memory like

Unfurling from his fingers bright and overwhelming lightning shot at the grey pavement. It felt almost like a release, a large exhale. Though at the same time, this exhale felt closer to as if he had exhaled underwater, all sound and feeling dampened around him.

Once again, like that day in the alley, all that was left behind was burnt and crisp etchings onto pavement. His chest puffed and deflated from the toll it had taken on him. He could still see static energy running over his fingertips before fading away.

Exhaustion settled over him, sending his knees cracking and bones giving out. His knees pressed against the pavement, his eyes fluttering as he tried to stay awake. Until his gaze caught something peculiar.

Modarr.

He stood before him, eyes beady as ever.

The exhaustion transformed and mutated into an anger that thrummed within him. Torrent pushed his black hair downwards and casted dark shadows through the city. “What the fuck do you want from me?!” He bellowed, spit dribbling from his lips. “Huh!? What the fuck do you want?!”

His fingers were warm as they outstretched and touched the tip of Erik’s chin. Tilting it upwards, Erik gazed into Modarr’s eyes.

You are myth. Myths do not stand before me with a chest that rises and falls.

His heart battered into his ears like a storm unfolded beneath his ribs. Deep and commanding Modarr’s words felt like earthquakes tearing down ancient mountains. “It is a gift.”