Graymere
A New Acquaintance

An overeager employee thrust his hand out to me. I took it cautiously and shook it.

“It’s so nice to have you here.” He smiled like he had been waiting his whole life to meet me. “My name is Luka,” he explained, pointing to his name badge. I gave him a polite nod and said nothing about myself. I didn’t have to.

I turned away from him to examine the fabric of the clothes.

“My last name is Redwood,” he offered. “And you can have it anytime you like.”

I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “I’m flattered, but-” I began, before he cut me off.

“No!” He blushed. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that if you were looking for a last name then- I mean, it’s not as if I could even think of you like that, not that there’s anything wrong-” he groaned. “I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

I laughed and nodded.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you. It’s just-” he paused. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Let’s just focus on the clothes,” I suggested to the flustered employee.

“Right, right,” he muttered, mostly to himself, grabbing a cloth tape measure and stepping towards me. “I am apologizing in advance, because while this may feel like an invasion of your personal space, I just need to take some measurements.”

I took off my jacket and he wrapped the measure around my waist. I stood as still as I could as he measured me and wrote down numbers in his book. I could feel the warmth radiating from his dainty hands. His fingernails were neatly trimmed and buffed so that they shone as if coated with clear nail polish, which they might have been. When he was finished, he took his books and scanned the racks of clothing. I took the opportunity to touch the coin in my pocket. His name was indeed Luka Redwood and he had first started working here a little over two years ago, but before that, there was no mention of him, like his past had been erased from my databanks the same way my past had been erased from my mind. He was fairly attractive, though he struck me as the type of man who was more interested in other men.

He handed me a dress and ushered me into a changing room to put it on. I dressed as best I could, knowing that I would require his assistance, but trying finish as much as I could by myself first.

“What did you do before working here?” I asked Luka, wanting to see if he remembered any of his past. My early life was also erased from my databanks, at least with my level of access.

“I lived with my parents,” he responded matter-of-factly. “They and provided for me until the day I decided to go out into the world see what I could do on my own. I tried working for my uncle, but that didn’t work out. Then I became a tailor’s apprentice, and worked my way up to here.” I couldn’t see him, but I figured he was gesturing around his shop as he said that last part. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

In a soft voice, I asked him to tell me about his parents. I tried to sound curious, but he may have heard the sadness in my voice.

“They were just parents, I suppose. They were kind and caring. I’m not exactly sure what you want me to give you.”

“A memory,” I said as I stepped out of the dressing room. “Share a memory with me.”

I must have looked sad, because I could see pity in his eyes. He moved towards me to finish up the ties and laces on my dress and granted my wish. “When I was a small child, I had a toy train engine. I loved that toy train, and I would run around our house with it making train noises. I even had a little conductor’s hat.”

Once he finished with my dress, he turned to face, and I had a soft smirk on my face imagining this man as the child he described.

“One day,” he continued, “when I was running, I tripped on a rug and my train went flying. My mother rushed over to me, examining my body for scrapes and bruises while I wailed for my lost train. Some of the wheels were broken, and my mother just held me tight until I stopped crying. The next morning, I found my train sitting at my place on the dining table, the broken wheels replaced with buttons.”

I closed my eyes and tried to picture myself as the child in Luka’s story, feeling the emotions of despair of the broken train and delight to find it fixed. I tried to imagine the warmth of his mother’s hug and the love she must have had for him. When I closed my eyes, it almost felt real.

I thanked Luka for the clothes and left his shop. It was mission time.

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