He heard a subtle rattling noise coming from downstairs, like whimpering whispers, a calling already too familiar to him. He decided to pay it no mind, at least not for now for he knew what it was and what it wanted to ask of him. It had done so every day for the past... Ever since he had been left alone. Instead, he chose to stand there somewhat despondently, as if waiting, hoping for a sign. Or perhaps just to enjoy the privileged power that is allotted to us when we are allowed to make a choice. He waited and what he wanted soon came to him...
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The remaining memories of family, of friends, of places and moments, slowly swirled into his mind. At first, they swept over him like a gentle breeze, but their recalcitrant nature quickly insisted on taking over, and he knew this was to be the last time by the way they screamed and demanded his attention.
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Under the caress of that rain, while holding firmly to that makeshift handrail, he tried to recall, for one last time, how things had gotten like this. What had happened to all that he once knew and cherished. Every time he woke up since he was left all alone, he tried just that, to recall and every time he went to sleep made it harder for him to do so. He came to realize that with every nap some of his memories refused to wake up with him - and he had slept much since then. The longer the sleep, more the loss. Whatever it all was, the invite waiting for him downstairs was surely becoming more appealing with each passing sleep.
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The few memories he still had left; each one was precious enough to weigh down his heart and body, but perhaps now not enough to keep him anchored to this place. Or perhaps it was their preciousness that was now making him consider that offer.
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Memories that had now began to manifest all around him. They swirled and danced for a moment like the fireflies of old, as if saying their goodbyes, before one-by-one they began leaving him. One at a time they left him for the darkness ahead. Their lights never to be seen again and he knew then this would be his last chance to recollect what had transpired here. Many details might have grown out of his reach, but the overall arc of truth was still in his grasp. As truthful as any shred of memory can ever be that is. Thus, he began the process of remembrance, a cycle not easy to break for anyone.
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