Missing you Part 3

Why had I come today? What was in it for me?

I had spent the whole day in an office, but nothing good came out of it. Not yet, at least.

I had been told, that he'd be here now. But I did not see him. Was it a lie? A trick to get me on my toes?

I walk back to the station, frustrated. I hear the words in my head.

"Calm down, we have time. Go again tomorrow"

And a smile.

His words play in my head, and I feel a throbbing pain in my chest.

Why did he not come? Did he hear that I was coming, too?

Whatever it was, I want to forget it all.

Eat a bucket of ice cream.

Write something stupid in my diary.

Call a friend and laugh to something that doesn't make sense.

Yes. That's what I am going to do.

And afterwards I will feel much better.

I will forget him again, for some time.

I suddenly wake up from a dream. Tears in my eyes.

He was never there for me, never. Not when I needed him the most. And now I do not even know him. I wish I knew him. I want to understand his reasons, why he left me like that.

Like what? I cannot remember.

In the dream, everything was so clear. I knew everything about my past, and his.

But now it was all a blur of feelings. I could not even remember my name. Where am I, anyway?

It is a house on an island, but that is the only piece of land as far as the eye can see.

I have been here now two days. I have not eaten anything since I woke up in here.

I go look for the kitchen. There I find a fridge. It is stocked with food. Or, ingredients.

I take a package of pieces of meat, butter, cream and some old sliced potatoes.

I put the potatoes in the microwave, and find a frying pan for the other ingredients. Then I start doing the one thing I would never forget, not even if my memory was erased. Cooking.

I had always known how to cook. From the very first time I was big enough for my mother to let me in front of the stove, I had cooked simple, delicious food. I just mixed what I knew, again and again. And it always, always turned out to be good. It is like a sixth sense. I just know what goes well with everything.

The food is ready. I put some of it in a plate, and go sit on the sofa. There is a dining room, but it feels too big and lonely, and so formal, so I decide to go to the smaller living room.

I do not want to put on the tv. A good book would maybe be the right choice, but I did not see any books on my way to the kitchen, and I am too tired to go look for them now.

Instead, I take a deep breath and enjoy the silence.

It has been silent for a long time now, but my head has been a mess of screaming memories, and the cooking made my head clear for a moment. So I decide to take the best of it.