They told me that I have selective amnesia.

Well that made sense when I woke up in that blue on white room two years ago. The first person that I looked for was ‘Kwon’. My parents looked shock, my friends looked scared—I felt confused.

They didn’t want to tell me first but I know that something was definitely far-fetched. The days went on and on and that single name still stayed in my mind like an unwanted and welcome word. Whoever he was, I was afraid that I did something bad to him.

But I kept on looking for him or more specifically, I felt that some business is actually not done between he and I.

The doctor told me that the amnesia was probably caused of an overload of emotions I tried suppressing before. True enough, sometimes when I close my eyes I could see flashes of the incident before I woke up in that blue on white room. Car, glasses, lights, arms trying to protect me…

Then nothing.

And ‘Kwon’.

When I was finally allowed to discharge from the hospital, my parents told me about these incidents and about the name that I keep on remembering—that is, in exchange of a deal of course.

I was not too be given his full name since it was his fault why I was in the accident in the first place. That was according to them.

But, there is something more.

They told me he was my fiancé.

That I was to be married to him the day after that unfortunate day; they told me that we got into an argument which caused that idiotic car ride which caused my selective amnesia.

Close enough, I could remember some bits of him. His smiling mouth, his clean and slender hands, his angry and sad eyes that night… I felt my heart ache for him.

I was to be married to a guy that I clearly love.

But why is there confusion?

They told me he died that night since he accepted the full impact of the accident. I cried that day—when they told me all about it.

I cried and cried and cried. Frustrated and mad to the world for not telling me the whole story behind the fight; behind the accident; behind his death.

Why can’t I remember it?

I tried looking for his grave but I could feel that I won’t find it there in Korea and that is why I am here in New York.

He is here, and I will find him in one cemetery somewhere and I will remember what kind of business I haven’t finish with him.

The love is still there, so is sadness but why is confusion in here as well?

I just have to sigh, right? And besides I still have to look for that map I am looking for in this bookstore. But while I keep on looking for the racks, I felt someone walk behind me and a sweep of cologne invaded my senses.

Wait, it was all too familiar.

Why?

I looked at my right and saw a guy in a red beanie scanning the racks a few feet away from my side. I studied his profile; his eyes were hidden behind fashionable geek glasses, a tall nose, full mouth, well curved jaw, slender neck for a male, his body was in a white v-neck shirt paired with faded jeans and high-tops which are from LV,  I could guess. He was also using BEATS head phones.

Why is he all too familiar?

I stopped and continued staring at him.

A dazzling, boyish smile. Slender hands on canvas, on keyboards. His expressive eyes.

I couldn’t tell how long I was staring at him. But I acted on instinct as he started to walk away.

I grabbed his arm. He looked back and for a moment I think I saw his eyes widen as he removed his head phones. “Jingyo?” I don’t know why I uttered that word—heck, I don’t even know what the means. But when he replied a doubtful “Hunchae.” I realized that my heart was near to stopping and I don’t even know what Hun-Chae means.

Did I find the one that I keep on looking for?