Quiet, melodic, it came out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I opened my eyes sharply. A familiar village stretched out before me, faded by time, but painfully familiar.

We had arrived at my grandparents' house.

It stood at the back of the garden, bathed in the soft, diffused light of the moon. Even at the best of times, this village was not bright, and at night it dissolved into shadows. But tonight I saw everything so clearly, as if the moonlight had deliberately highlighted every detail. Every blade of grass on the threshold, every pattern on the walls, every dark crevice in the old wooden boards.

I took a step forward. The gravel path echoed with a familiar crunch, echoing across the deserted lot.

The gray roof of the dog kennel was hidden by the branches of a young tree, but I knew it was there, next to the unfinished brick building. The animal bowls stood in the same place by the door - with unfinished water and leftover food. Everything was exactly as I remembered it.

Except for one thing.

No one was waiting for me.

The dog's chain was sprawled out on the gravel, shedding its carrier. The leftovers in the bowl looked more like plastic filler than actual food and water. And the birds... their voices sounded artificial, too crisp, too repetitive, like a record.

— They say people's whole lives flash by before they die: regrets for things not done, things missed, and things they don't want to let go of.

— So you knew what I was thinking before I died? Then what was the show for?

— I was hoping you'd share it with me of your own free will. But instead, you accepted death.

The ghosts didn't exist. It was all just flashes of memory coming to life. Those who claimed to hear the voices of the dead saw only the deception of their minds clinging to the past. And I am no exception.

Standing here, among the ruins of my memories, I could almost believe that the door was about to open and my grandmother would come out onto the porch with a flashlight in her hand, ready to meet me at the gate after a late walk. That Kaido would snap out of his seat, rattling his chain, checking to see who was walking in the yard. How my mom will tell me off next, how excited my little brother will greet me, and how my grandfather will just laugh at everything that happens. I see it all, hear it all.

But what does this place mean without them? Would it be dear to me if there were no trace of them here? I doubt it.

— You see, this place was indeed special to me, like so many others. But not by itself. It was made important by important people - family, friends, everyone who was around. It would be a lie to say that I always wanted to be alone.....

The girl hid her hands behind her back, looking up at the sky.

— I see, — she said quietly, 'That makes sense.

The next hour or so was spent exploring the places I remembered well. The ones that didn't come to mind were filled with something vague, either the girl's imagination or my own. I wasn't sure, to be honest.

The houses I knew stood where they were supposed to be - with peeling fences, faded shutters. The rest of them, woven from guesswork, looked fake, like they'd been drawn from a child's drawing.

If anyone wanted to joke that I was the author of this oddball architecture, no, thank you very much, I'm quite a good artist.

Sometimes a lantern I didn't remember would suddenly appear in front of us, or a carved bench at an empty intersection. These details appeared by themselves, and I couldn't tell who had thought them up.

The road was completely empty, which wasn't surprising - there was no one to walk or drive here but the two of us. But even where in my memories it hadn't been there at all, where people got into their cars right on the dirt road, there was now a perfectly smooth highway. Not asphalted, no - more like drawn in pale lines right on top of the ground.

We walked along this dead road, and every step I took was the only sound accompanying us. At some point, I don't remember which one, the birds stopped singing, and the rustling of the leaves died away with the wind. Of course, going out of the wicket, I had a definite destination, but what it was and where it was, was already forgotten.

I never ventured inside. Not that it would have made any difference, but.... I guess I was afraid. Afraid of what I might see in there. Or rather, what I might not see anymore.

We wandered the deserted street and talked - probably for the first time so much. Her voice sounded as light as her gait. The girl didn't seem to fit in too well with the atmosphere of the village. She seemed too... pretentious or something. I, on the other hand, seemed like I could fit in anywhere: I'd be lost in the city crowd, but here I'd just be out of sight. But that didn't mean she didn't belong here. On the contrary, right now, besides the moon, she was the brightest thing in this ghostly world. So bright that her clear, warm smile was enough to make me want to remember every moment I spent with her.

I guess that's one of the perks of being beautiful. Hmm, or is it just me being so simple-minded?

Eventually we reached the dam where the small lake started. It had been the subject of many bad rumors in its day, but even that didn't stop us from swimming in it. The water seemed perfectly smooth now, but unlike Moon Lake, you couldn't see the bottom - it was too murky.

— I think I'm ready now, — I looked around before I looked her in the eye, — Those places that once lost their importance can regain it, if you're with me.

When she turned, I smelled something familiar. A warm, soothing scent that I couldn't remember. The only thing I knew was that it made me feel calm and good in my soul. But I guess that didn't matter. This was the first time my nostrils had picked up anything in all this time, and the reason was her.

— Was it? Then I probably shouldn't go along with you.

— Hey? Wait, but why? — I panicked.

She hummed.

— Just kidding, — she said, how clever she was at knocking the ground out from under my feet with just one phrase. — Don't you think it's rude to have your injuries healed at my expense?

— No, wait, that's not what I meant! — I waved my hands in the air, justifying myself.

— Hmph, I see.

What did she mean by that? I have no idea. Did she believe me? Unlikely. Was I really trying to take advantage of her kindness? Maybe. After all, she knows best.

— I'm sorry if I offended you. I was too stupid to think before I spoke, — I bowed my head in apology.

She was taken aback. Her eyes went wide, but the next moment she was laughing. The girl clutched her stomach, rocking back and forth, and then, wiping away a lone tear, she exhaled with a smile:

— Oh gods, what kind of pathetic look is that? — she laughed even louder, — Don't be silly, I was really just joking. Isn't... isn't that what friends are for?

She made a vague emphasis on the word 'friends' before her lips parted in a wide, affectionate smile. I had no choice but to give in and smile back at her.

— Let's go then, — the girl said.

She spun around like a fallen leaf picked up by the wind and started on her way. She walked as if bouncing, and it seemed that at any moment she could start floating above the ground. Maybe she was happy now.

I watched as her hair swept up, then lay softly on her shoulders. That glowing pollen was nowhere to be found, and now they looked quite ordinary. Beautiful, but ordinary. I wondered how it worked.

— Where?

She tilted her head slightly, as if puzzled by the question.

— Hmm? Isn't it obvious? To the station.

Obvious? No, it wasn't obvious at all. What station? It's never been here. Uh. only if it's a bus station, in a way.

— No, no, no, no, — she turned to wave her finger in front of my nose, — We'll take the train.

Knowing the girl's abilities, I had no doubt that she was serious. The only question was: where and how should he appear?

I followed the girl, wandering through narrow alleys where the walls of the houses shrank away, leaving only a thin strip of sky. The light of the streetlamps didn't reach here, but the moon still found its way through, outlining a faded path beneath our feet. These buildings were too close together, and it seemed to me that this place was becoming more and more imaginable. But I still couldn't figure out who it belonged to.

At first they were the same houses I remembered: with peeling facades, crooked fences, and windows that no one looked out of anymore. But the farther we walked, the higher the walls got, and the wider the streets became. Ordinary houses were replaced by two-story houses, then three-story houses. At some point, I noticed that we were walking along stone fences, and when I looked up, I saw the windows of high-rise buildings above us.

When did this happen? I didn't notice. Nor did I notice that there was no longer a village behind us. The place from which we had moved out was now filled with many high-rise buildings and stores. Everything happened so smoothly that it seemed like it had always happened.

It was as subtle as the change of seasons. Yesterday the trees were still standing in thick green, and today their leaves were already underfoot.

Along the way, we were greeted by signs of screaming colors. The inscriptions on them were in a language unknown to me, but, for some reason, I had no trouble understanding them. Their strange names raised questions for me, but I hesitated to ask.

Our bond with her was too fragile for me to inquire. On the contrary, I could only be a questioner. Sometimes it seemed to me that the slightest gust of wind could blow us apart.

I was walking on a thin rope over a ditch with crocodiles. If I hesitated, the girl wouldn't even blink and the ground beneath my feet would explode. Our relationship didn't make me feel safe. Literally.

I lifted my head when I felt her gaze on me. She squinted, looking over my shoulder. There was a cold, almost contemptuous calmness in that gaze. It sent chills down my spine. I tried to smile, but before my lips could part, she'd already turned away.

I think she heard everything, didn't she?

I'm sorry.

That short stretch of time as we walked, I walked trying not to think. She was someone who had reached out to me many times before. I should have trusted her instead of ruining what brought us together in every way possible.

A few minutes later, a station appeared in front of us. At first glance, it looked like hundreds of others, with dim lights and austere metal structures. But when we looked at it a little longer, everything began to blur: the outlines softened and sharpened, like a memory that could not be caught in full clarity.

At the entrance we were greeted by turnstiles. They clicked and opened themselves as soon as we approached. Silently, without any unnecessary movement. If in my lifetime I had been allowed in for free, how much could I have saved!?

Pushing aside unnecessary thoughts, I stepped onto the escalator leading down. We descended into a spacious lobby with high ceilings, where soft light reflected off the polished slabs. The space was both familiar and repulsively alien - the way a city that you once lived in but have managed to forget is.

Looking around the platform and the tracks, the name of a place like this rolled around on my tongue. But as soon as I grasped the tail, it was as if I swallowed it before I could taste it. And with that, the air was filled with a growing rumble.

First a slight vibration, barely perceptible, as if the station's heart was beating faster. Then a shudder underfoot. The light lurched, then flashed brighter. The metal reflected it with flashes, and already a swift shadow slipped through the tunnel.

The train had arrived.

The doors opened just as we stepped down onto the platform, as if the schedule had been adjusted to fit our steps.

I looked at the girl. She grinned and stepped lightly onto the train. I followed her.

On the train, the girl and I sat in silence. It wasn't that we had nothing to talk about, but because each of us was busy contemplating the scenery outside the window.

Some places whizzed by, leaving behind a vague sense of deja vu, as if I'd been here before, but couldn't remember when or under what circumstances. I recognized the mall where I often spent time, but something about it was wrong: the signs weren't where they used to be, the storefronts seemed too deep, receding into the void. Then we glimpsed a familiar intersection, but the streetlights shone with a strange, slightly gray light, and the asphalt looked too smooth, as if it had just been poured, and no living thing had yet had time to walk across it.

We crossed the city, but it was as if it didn't notice us. The train glided along tracks I'd never seen in the neighborhood, but they appeared exactly where it needed to go. It moved through familiar streets, yards, even past my old office, only now the windows were empty, without the usual silhouettes of employees lingering at work.

Then the forest began. It was thick, almost impenetrable, and I wondered where the railroads had come from if there weren't even any footpaths. The train went straight ahead, and the trees that stood in the way seemed to disappear into thin air, giving way to the tracks, and then closed in behind us again, leaving only darkness.

It seemed to me that the world wasn't just left behind, it seemed to be erased. That's right, the past belongs in the past, and only the future awaits me. For the first time, it seemed, I was looking forward instead of drowning in the present.

I cast a glance at the girl. She was silently watching all of this. The lights from the light sources left behind were playing in her eyes, and her face, now, was the most magical sight this world had to offer.

— Your magic is amazing. How do you do it? — I asked.

She just shook her head, and I didn't know if she was in denial or just didn't want to answer.

We reached the first stop. Then the next. And after that, we traveled on foot. Probably the intermediate memories were over and only the important ones were ahead of us. Of course, I wasn't sure who counted them as such, but either way, it was fun.

We walked into familiar places - bars, cafes, restaurants - that I'd been to in my lifetime. At first glance, everything was exactly as it had been before: the same tables, the same dim lights, the signs burning with neon fatigue. But if you listened closely, it became clear that there was not a soul around. No customers, no waiters, just us and the silence broken by our voices.

Food appeared on its own as soon as one of us read out the names on the menu. The dishes looked flawless: golden crust, rich texture, and a flavor that made my stomach churn. But once you tasted it, the flavor disappeared. Everything was bland, like it was made of plastic.

I watched the girl with interest, her eyebrows furrowed as she tasted the food again and again, as if hoping that next time it would be different. Finally, she put down her chopsticks and looked at me with annoyance-as if I had personally deceived her. I didn't hold back a chuckle.

— You don't even know what this is, do you? — I asked, nodding at the plate.

She only squinted skeptically, but didn't answer.

I'd never been a foodie, taking food for granted. Only the shapes, colors, textures were imprinted in my memory, but not the taste. And she seemed to create dishes relying only on the picture, not knowing what was behind it. In a way, we were both to blame.

But her experiments didn't end there.

She picked up the mug and carefully took a sip of the golden, foamy drink. A bewildered expression flashed across her face-so obvious that I almost choked on my laughter.

— This is... Hmm... That's... It's awful.

She ran her tongue over her lips, licking off the foam, and at that moment she looked so serious that I couldn't stand it and burst into laughter.