Adam and Eve. Just like the scriptures of Abrahamic texts had foretold the first human couple.

He couldn't remember the past; she did. She couldn't remember the present; he did. Entwined and bound for each other. Dependent on each other, yet independent together. Yin and yang, black and white, night and day. Any heartfelt philosopher could bathe in the romanticism references for hours on end.

Crisp sunlight tickled Adam's eyelids at dawn, reminding him once more that life isn't dictated by dreams; it's about navigating through the difficulties.

As such, he promptly got out of bed.

His tummy rumbled due to a deficiency of food from the last 48 hours. The last thing his tongue's taste buds had contacted were some saccharrides from the colloid of caffeine and processed coffee beans.

His eyes scaled the cabin, looking for signs of his encounter with Bouchie lady. Regrettably, he found nothing. No bedroll. No woman.

'What else could a man expect by owning such an ill fate?'

He sighed, wondering if everything was just a dream. It couldn't be.

Worst of all, he genuinely wished to be with someone. Someone who understood his situation. Someone who shared the same fate. Someone who resembled her.

A dead angel with a human name.

The ex-detective reclaimed his occupation, to solve the mysteries behind his own life, or what he knew about it from the perspectives of people around him.

He had already planned his day out. But a top priority was to replenish his healthy gastric system.

***

"One cappuccino, please," Adam entered the café, his movements weary with exhaustion from all the walking. "And some cakes, if you have any."

"S-sure, sir," the waitress leaned her head forwards in a slight bow. "Please p-pick a seat, and I'll be r-right back."

Adam walked over to an empty chair, with his eyes locked-on to her, the shallow rise and fall of her hips.

'That must be Eve, aye. Such a cutie. Who else could it be? That slight stutter. That deerlina appearance,' he quietly recapitulated. 'That innocent sign of forgetting who I am. Of all the conversations we had gone through last night.'

His memory neurons summoned the vision of him introducing himself repeatedly every few minutes to cope with Evelyn's neural illness.

A pity.

There were a few more customers today.

He noticed a young couple spending some time to get to know each other, bubbles of fresh romance budding around them. Across the aisle, a rather plump woman chatted away with her children's aunt, with her own two offspring chasing and smacking each other at present. Her husband returned from the washroom to eradicate their sons' commotion.

A pleasant environment for comfortably snoozing amongst a bokeh of glittery lights and gentle voices.

The waitress arrived with Adam's order, placing three species of muffins supplemented by foamy, spicy cappuccino nestled in a biodegradable plastic cup. She removed the tray and walked away to answer another customer's call, without a single extra word nor gesture spoken.

Adam sighed, shoving the succulent and spongy appetizers into his mouth. He was hungry, he had no time for etiquette. He was confident that his tuxedo did the trick anyways.

He had to wait until the end of Eve's shift.

***

"Hey there!" Adam walked up to the woman currently taking off her apron and uniform. Underneath, she had her own casual clothing. "Do you remember me, perchance?"

For a second, Eve's pupils dilated and constricted back to normal, outlined by the blue ring of her iris pigments.

"Um... I apologise, but I don't think so," she seemed nervous upon Adam's behavior. "Have we met before?"

Adam laid a caring hand on her shoulder. The soft, frictionless and cold skin met his leathery, rough and warm superficial surfaces.

"We have," the detective informed. "I am the man you've been taking care of, in the cabin the woo-."

At his words, Eve forced her hand over Adam's mouth and held him by the elbow, immediately dragging him into the backrooms.

The staff room. The utility room. And then into a cramped spot feared by claustrophobics.

"Sshhh," she finally spoke again, whispering not to be heard by anyone else except the man towering above her height. "Please don't m-mention about the cabin. Promise me."

"I-" the detective was too stunned to speak. "I promise. I wish no harm to be done to you."

Her eyes licked the delicacy pressed against her in the tight cavity between some pipes, scanning him from head to toe.

She weakened her grip on the detective's arm. The shape of her small fingers had engraved their image temporarily on the tuxedo fabric when she let go.

"O-okay, Jack," she cupped his face looming a few inches above hers. Her lips trembled with a nostalgic heartburn. Her eyes were getting soggy with heartfelt emotions. "My dear Jack... M-my love... You're okay."

Adam wasn't sure what particular memory film was currently running in her mental theatre, but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Silence eavesdropped on their timid company.

"You're mistaken. I'm not Jack. I'm Adam."

"No," she slammed her head against his chest, hearing the same genetic heartbeat of her fiancé. "No. You're my Jack. I can't le-let them take ya away from m-me," the perspiration of her eyes landed on Adam's chest. "No matter w-what they say. You'll always be my J-Jack."

The detective ran an empathetic hand over her head, stroking the strands of hair dyed in natural gold.

"Okay then. If that's the name you'd offer me, then so be it," he could hear the soft sniffles. Her body was too intensively near his, nearly touching.

It didn't feel right.

He didn't wish to fool her by the blind spots left by the handicap. He felt an odd sense of impostor syndrome in claiming to be the man he wasn't. He knew the truth. He had to be responsible enough to maintain and guard it.

No reward nor punishment was anchored to the decision. It wasn't a question of right and wrong; it was a test of humanity.

And Adam would gladly be dragged along by regret than to bask in the blessings of a false opportunity.

"M-my Jucas. My only hope left," she wrapped her arms around his torso, getting closer both physically and socially. "I'm so h-happy for meeting you."

"I understand, Eve. I do. But... Could you please calm down?" his words slithered out like chocolate snakes, disapprovingly deadly yet generously gentle. "I am grateful for your knowledge. And I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news but... Your future husband is dead. And we might be next if we do not hurry."

"No," she swung her legs up in the air, hugging his waist. Her body was indecently in contact with her betrothed's twin. "My husband never died," she looked up to mirror his face. "He only swapped bodies."