He woke up the next morning, alone & in pain. With a headache and a faint memory, he set out again.
To look for what would complete him. So what if he couldn’t remember what it was? Some success-stories are made so by their sheer incompetence.
He was positive he’d find it. So he set out to do the inevitable, as written in children’s tales, and to do the unbelievable, if only his memory prevails.
He went to the place he spend his childhood in, where he dismissed more than he reminisced.
Then to the spot where he often went with his teen-hood sweetheart, found so little he could redefine zilch.
But then finding nothing was also a discovery. As he recalled where he last saw it, the withering frog lake, there he found a familiar stranger whom he smacked wide-awake. Left his empty pockets with wealth he didn’t know he had. Once he heard her new name, he felt his head again, but felt glad.
He looked up the telephone directory. But wasn’t surprised when he got what he needed.
He called the number next to the relevant one, and take down the address is what he did.
‘Show up for the showdown’ was part of his elaborate plan, he wondered how he became such a discreet man.
Perhaps it was his version of a good ol’ fashioned surprise…
He knocked hard onto the door and heard the voice of a child. That banter sounded familiar, something he had forgotten all this while.
He combed his hair in a jiffy and took a sniff of his breath. As he put his hands back in his pocket, the door slowly crept.
Popped out a head from the gap between the chain-barricaded door.
A child he saw, that left his heart full of glee. ‘What’s more innocent?’ he wondered, the look in her eyes or she?
A responsible hand held on to the door, more hardworking than elegant.
The young child looked up at it, with all her might… as the woman looked on with a look of fear, or was it delight?
‘You’re alive!’ she screeched ‘they..they told me you were dead’.
‘I was until now, my darling’ he said with an injured smile, ‘…but I’ve found my heart, my love, I’ve found you. And it is all that a dead man would need to rise from the…’
His monologue was interrupted with the un-clanking of a chain and a flying bread roller that hit him in the brain. They call it dead-center for that very reason.
His romantic-return turned into a comedy of errors. As the woman checked up on her long-presumed-dead lover…