Shaking my head, I try to shake your memory away. As much as I try to blame the fates, when you became a memory there was no one to blame but you, no matter how much I’d deny the fact.

Turning to face my adversaries, a figure aproaches in the dark. Slowing I walk to meet them, and they match me step for step. The closer we come to each other, the more details I can make out, until recognition sparks a small flame in the depths of my mind, though it’s light won’t reach to reveal his identity.

Step, step, step, one, two, three, four, closer, step, step, five, six.

The only noise as we, my opponent and I, come to meet are the reverberating footsteps bouncing like thunder off the walls, and your face screaming in my head, the soundtrack to our coming.

Bring on the rain.