Henry closed his eyes one more time and strained his brain to try to remember what she was wearing when he first saw her. It was the first day of his freshman year and they had Music Theory 101. He remembered her long dark hair and cute giggle as he made the stupidest jokes to her when the professor turned his back towards the class. He could remember all of those details, but no matter how hard he tried he could not picture the clothes she had worn that day. Was it a dress? A skirt? It frustrated him that a few months ago he could probably even tell you what kind of pencil she had first used, but now he couldn’t even remember the color top she wore. And soon he wouldn’t even remember their first conversation.

He quickly closed the thick notebook in which he tried to record all the details he could remember and what he couldn’t. Each day the latter grew longer and Henry grew more despondent. He put the book back in his safe place and went to go get ready for work. As he brushed his teeth he tried his best to ignore the empty sink next to his own.  

Henry was greeted by a smiling Donghae and he set down his coffee and briefcase on his desk before stating, “You’re way too perky for 8 am.”

“I’m just happy, that’s all.” There he goes again Henry thought.

He sat down in his chair with a sigh and began to pull out the stack of papers he had to grade. He and Donghae were both music professors at Seoul National University.

“What’s bothering you today?” He heard his office mate ask. The man was a genius piano player, but sometimes he could get annoying.

“Um, nothing. Just have a lot of work to do.”

“Liar,” Donghae accused while tossing up a crumpled piece of paper into the toy hoop hanging above their wastebasket. “You forgot something again.”

Henry ran a hand over his face before admitting, “Yes. What she was wearing when we met in MT 101 here.”

Donghae looked at him sympathetically. He was the only person that knew what was happening to Henry; that he was slowly losing all the memories he has of his late wife. He had been Henry’s roommate and friends with the both of them, even the best man at their wedding. It troubled him to see how much this affected Henry, his best friend, and he became seriously worried as this ‘condition’ seemed to worsen each week. After a few moments of silence he asked him, “Have you seen anyone about it? Maybe a doctor or therapist?”

Henry quickly shook his head and added, “They’ll look at me like I’m crazy. And I do not have a problem.”

“But it is a problem. You’re not acting like yourself, we hardly spend any time together outside of work, and you just don’t seem happy anymore. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Henry just nodded to get him off the subject. “I gotta get to class.”

In the middle of his living room floor Henry sat with hundreds of pictures strewn all around him on the hardwood flooring. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon Henry decided to bring out all of the photo albums buried deep in his closet. Right after her death he couldn’t even look at the box without hurting. Now he thought he would go through all the pictures he had of her and them together to see if it triggered any of his memories. But when he started to look at the pictures he wasn’t able to recall where they were taken or what they had been doing. He frantically began trying to organize the photos in a timeline sort of arrangement and gather any sort of clues he could to remember those moments. But pictures are just a snapshot in time and unless you are there experiencing it, so many things are left unsaid, unrepresented. Henry felt like an outsider looking at these photos, asking himself questions like “What are these two feeling?” “Does he love her?” “Where are they going?” “Is she looking at him like she loves him?”

He finally came across one on their wedding day and he realized he couldn’t even remember the vows they had said to one another. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to rack his memory; he refused to forget something as important as this. “Where they the generic kind or did we write our own? Did I sing her a song?” He muttered to himself. After a few minutes he started to cry and out of frustration he gathered all the photos and threw them back into the box not bothering to sort them back into their respective albums.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror supporting his upper body against the countertop with his arms as he drew in shaky breaths.

Donghae’s words replayed from a month ago replayed in his mind. ‘You’re not acting like yourself, we hardly spend any time together outside of work, and you just don’t seem happy anymore.’ Life had been difficult after Sora’s death and losing his memories on top of that just made everything ten times worse. Since he had said those words Henry had forgotten even more things and it shook him to his core. He could not keep on going on like this.

He would give anything to just remember all the details about her because if he couldn’t have the real thing he could at least have her in his heart or mind. Even if that meant seeking the help his friend had suggested.

Henry walked into their office and before Donghae could give his normal greeting he quickly asked, “Remember when you told me to think about getting some… help?” The dark haired man simply nodded. “Well, I have been thinking and whatever is causing me to lose my memory is getting worse and soon I might not even be able to tell you what she looked like without looking at a picture. I don’t know how much a psychiatrist or a doctor can help me, but I’ve decided that I at least have to try whatever I can to get my memories with Sora back.”

Donghae leaned backwards in his chair slightly and crossed his fingers, “Maybe you don’t have to go to a doctor at all.”

Henry had a confused look on his face as he sat down and questioned Donghae.

“I’m thinking any professional will just say some crap like you’re repressing your memories as a coping mechanism and move on to the next patient with a grossly overpriced check in the mail for you. But I know someone that might help you dig a little deeper and free of charge.”

“Please tell me who this miracle worker is?” Henry said skeptically.

“Actually I can show you,” Donghae replied. “At lunch.”

Henry followed Donghae through the school’s courtyard and pulled his coat closer around his body to shield him from the oncoming raindrops. He almost bumped into him when Donghae had stopped suddenly.

“She’s over there,” he gestured to the fountain area of the courtyard. Henry craned his neck to look over his shoulder and saw only one girl sitting on the ledge of the fountain with a pair of headphones and a text book in front of her crossed legs. Her hair was cut short she dressed in very casual clothes in jeans, sneakers and hoodie.

“What? Her?” He questioned his friend. “She looks like she’s a freshman or at a sophomore at the very most. How can she help me?”

“That is Amber Liu, and actually she’s getting her masters in Psychology.”

Henry almost choked when he heard what Donghae had said. “Masters? She looks like she’s eighteen.”

“She’s the genius of the Psychology department. Graduated High School early and enrolled at sixteen. She just turned twenty and she started her masters this year.”

The girl happened to look up and see the pair standing together when her face lit up with recognition. “Donghae!” She yelled and waved at him a little.

Donghae walked towards her as he said, “Oh yeah, and she’s my cousin and she owes me a favor.”

Amber stood and shook Henry’s outstretched hand when Donghae introduced him. “Amber, this is Henry Lau. He’s a colleague and good friend of mine. He’s from Canada. Amber grew up in LA.”

Henry flashed a small smile to the girl.

“Have you eaten yet?” asks Donghae. Amber reaches over for her book and closes it shut and shoves it in her backpack.

“Actually, no.” She pulls a cap out of her bag and settles it on her head. “But you know that even if I did I would still eat again.”

“I still have yet to figure out how you eat so much, yet stay so skinny.” Donghae looks at Amber then Henry. “Same with Henry here. I swear the guy’s a garbage disposal.”

For most of the lunch Henry is quiet and Donghae and Amber do most of the talking. While their plates are cleared and they wait for the check, Donghae clears his throat before saying, “Actually, Amber there’s a reason I decided to meet with you for lunch.”

She raises one eyebrow while sipping her Coke, prompting him to continue.

“Remember that favor you still owe me? I’m cashing that in right now.” Amber stayed silent but she seemed definitely intrigued. “You see… Henry needs a little help and you need a subject for your class project.”

Henry scoffs and says, “You make it sound so… weird. Let me explain.” He turns towards Amber and turns his glass around in his hands. “I’m starting to lose my memory.”

She looks a little disappointed, “Did you hit your head recently? It’s probably amnesia and you should go to a doctor.”

Henry shook his head and smiled kind of sadly, “It’s only specific memories. Ones of my wife that died in an accident a year ago. It wasn’t that bad at first. They were small details- like what book she read last; the kinds of things you’d expect to forget gradually. But then it kept getting worse and worse and I’m forgetting things I once thought I’d remember forever.” He pauses and looks out the window and his voice cracks slightly when he says, “I can’t even remember most of our wedding day anymore.”

Amber stares at him finding his story both fascinating and tragic at the same time.

Henry returns his gaze to the table. “So will you help me?”