It was one of those mornings again when Junmyeon didn't feel like how he's supposed to.

He got off the bed more tired than he ever was before he slept, sluggishly rolling on his back as he squinted his eyes to the sickening feeling. Whether he just had a bad dream that he couldn't recall or that his curled up position strained his muscles even if it never did before, he didn't know. Trying to relieve himself he got up lazily and walked to the bathroom to pee, only to realize that releasing what his bladder had held all night wouldn't release the exhaustion together with it.

He brushed his teeth afterwards and stared aimlessly at the toiletries. They were all the usual types of toiletries of course, except that he didn't remember buying those. But this fact didn't bother him as much as that one toothbrush beside his, which was barely recognizable as far as the depths of his memory was concerned. It was a pink one with yellow stripes on it. Another color subtly entered his mind but he decided to just literally brush it off. He smiled a bit at the mentally-made pun but still, the fact remained the same: that the toothbrush was new to his eyes. When was the last time she changed her toothbrush? Now it just added up to the list of things that he couldn't remember next to whatever nightmare he had this morning. Even the shampoo near the shower had a brand that he never heard before. This is the classic Junmyeon, he thought; stressing himself over the the little things and most nonsensical questions in life that wouldn't do him any good at all if he decides to spend time answering them.

He closed the bathroom door behind him as he got out, staring at all the things his eyes could ever lay on in the room. Even their own bed feels different now compared to the first time they moved in, which was ironic because he was supposed to get used to it as time passes and as the sets of furniture get old. But everything was happening in counterclockwise.

Some of her clothes were hung on the closet's handle. He knew they were hers but imagining her with that style on, it felt weird. He knew that she never changed her fashion ever since but somehow at the back of his brain, he had already admitted to himself that it wasn't the type of fashion that he'd like for a woman.

He must be really getting old then. It was as if he had Alzheimer's disease. Everyday there's a new thing to know and remember and ge