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She was trying to remember. What was that tantalizing feeling that had spread within her after she woke up? It kept pushing against her rib cage and flesh, screaming for attention. There was the bookshop and the two dying trees. There was the mosaic window and the church. But that’s all she could remember. What else did she see in her dream? The feeling kept pushing and screaming. She was trying to listen, she was trying to remember.

.~.

She walks away from her home without a plan. For the first time, she leaves her bed not knowing where she’s heading. Wandering into the streets of the city, she passes the bookshop, the gynecologist’s clinic, and the two dying trees. Where to now? This is usually where she turns around and walks back home. Where to now?

.~.

The pangs struck again. This time in her brain. She was trying to remember.

Dark red! Or was it purple? Out of nowhere, the colors flood her memory. What was it? With vivid color and vehement feeling, she was trying to remember. What was it? What was it?

.~.

She musters an alien courage from somewhere inside her. She keeps walking, past the two dying trees, and takes a right turn where she finds a formidable church standing alone in the night. She stops in front of its closed, silent doors gazing at the mosaic window atop them. The window filters light from inside through intricate glass of every color and into the devouring darkness outside. There is something beautifully ominous about the light of a holy place. She breathes in and continues walking.

.~.

What could wrench her so badly? What dark force lay dormant in her subconscious that suddenly awoke last night? It was almost painful: not knowing. She was trying to remember. That vision of red (or purple?). What was it?

.~.

She looks back at the church, disappearing in the distance, and as she turns her head, she finds her standing still two centimeters away from her face. Surprised, she doesn’t know who the girl is and why she is motionlessly close, but she doesn’t move either. They look at each other, scanning every detail of each other’s faces. The motionless girl has short hair dyed white, heavy black eye liner, and deep purple lipstick. After twenty-eight seconds of stillness and eyes, the motionless girl raises her hands and holds my head, slowly pulling it closer. I look into her eyes then lean in, my lips meeting hers. Passionately, we kiss and unprecedented purple passion pours through her lips into mine.

.~.

Purple, it was purple. Panting, I remember now. I had my first kiss. With a stranger in a dream. It was perfect.

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