• It's gone. How can it be gone and how could he forget? It was on the bookshelf, where he left it, behind the anthology of poems. It had to be there. But it isn't there. It's gone. What was it? How could he forget?

    Aden's face is burning and brimming with sweat as he slouches in his chair, trying to remember. His room is completely disorderly, books lie askew on the floor and on his desk, papers adorn his bed, and boxes are flipped on their tops, emptied. His hair is disheveled with frustration as images flit through his mind.

    The salty breeze brought with it a warmth which whispered its solemn wish to be shared. The sunset was ablaze in hues of orange and purple as the sunlight rippled upon the surface of the waters. The waves rolled in slowly, but surely, bringing with them intricate shells of a faded blush pink.
    Walking with Aden along the seashore, hand in hand, was Ameliana.
    Or was it Arianna? Or Alexandra?
    She had found him, that was for sure. He was sitting on the empty beach, bored out of his mind during his family visit, when she simply walked up to him and sat down. They chatted slowly, awkwardly, but it picked up and his shoulders began to loosen up. They talked about anything, everything, and nothing. It was one of the best conversations he had ever had, and one of the only ones with a girl wherein it lasted for more than an hour. Time slipped quickly, as the hours passed like minutes.
    Suddenly, he realized he had not told her his name. As he started, she softly pressed her finger upon his lips and shook her head. Then she smiled as the wind blew her hair and brought his gaze into her eyes brimming with mystery and liveliness. She had him by the heartstrings.
    Time would slip too quickly.
    She asked if he would come again, to the very same spot. He nodded silently as she smiled and left. As she left, he gazed at her and realized she never took a look back.
    The rest of the summer went on like that, each and everyday, without fail. He would wait on the beach and she would show up out of apparently nowhere. They would talk for hours and hours until the noon rays became the flickers of sunset. Then she would leave as mysteriously as she had appeared, without so much as a gaze back at him.
    He had never felt so wonderful.
    But before he knew it, it was time to leave. She came again, as she always had, as mysterious as the sea breeze. They began to talk, but she knew he was out of himself. She didn't ask why, but he began to tell her. However, she lifted her finger to his lips once again and told him she knew. He gave a weak smile, which she replied with her own carefree grin. Rising up, she grasped his hand and pulled him up.
    For a moment, her happy countenance melted away into a saddened gaze as she looked away. Quietly, she asked if he would take a walk with her. Her voice quavered and the slightest hint of a whimper was evident. But, she turned back to him, beaming. He nodded and they walked, hand in hand, silently enjoying each other's company for the last time.
    The breeze was cold and brought with it droplets of a coming rain. The sunset was blurred behind clouds that inched closer and closer to the shore. The waves crashed onto the sand, bringing seaweed and broken shells in their wake.
    The moon crept over the sky before they knew it, and the sky was clear for a brief, fleeting moment. She stopped and let go of his hand. Looking down at first, she seemed to collect herself before proceeding with what had to be done. Then, smiling up at him, she thanked him as she reached with her arms to wrap them around his neck. He followed suit, but as his arms awkwardly enclosed themselves around her, their lips met. And they soon became very acquainted in those last moments under the pale glow of the moonlight, the sound of the water splashing upon the sand resonated through the still night air.
    Their embrace ended as she slipped a note into his back pocket. Grinning like her usual self, she warned him not to open the note until he got home- far, far away from here. She began to slowly step away from him, the warmth of their bodies disappearing as she took each step. She turned around, as did he, and they walked their opposite ways.
    Suddenly, a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He turned and yelled back at her, telling her his name. She stopped and answered, without turning around,
    “You shouldn't have.”
    He gazed down at the sand and chuckled. She began to walk away again, but she stopped again and gazed back at him with those mysterious eyes and a frown. He returned the favor.
    Aden, cursing at himself, spins a few times in his chair, trying to recollect his fading memory. Suddenly, a thought strikes him and he walks over to his shelf. On the very top, aside from a heavy dust depository, is a faded pink shell. Lifting the shell, a note unfolds slightly. Aden snatches and unfolds it, but throws it down on the floor in a fit of frustration. On the paper, are faded letters, the original message no longer legible, and where a name had been signed, a faded “A” was the only remainder. How could he forget?