They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die.
But what if there's nothing left to remember?
No name.
No face.
No past.
Only the sense that something was missing---something precious, now lost.
---
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over a city. In an instant, storm clouds gathered---heavy and low, swallowing the sky in darkness. There was a brief moment of silence, as if the world were holding its breath.
Then came the rain.
Relentless. Unyielding.
It pounded against rooftops, spilled over gutters, and turned the streets into rushing rivers.
People scattered for cover, pulling up hoods, raising umbrellas, or using whatever they had---bags, cloaks, even their bare hands---to shield themselves. Their hurried footsteps splashed through puddles, swallowed by the roar of the downpour.
Yet in a narrow alleyway on the city's edge, far from the glow of lanterns and flickering neon signs, a man lay motionless amid piles of trash.
His clothes were tattered, soaked through, stained with grime. The stench of rotting garbage and wet earth clung to him, thick and suffocating. Cold crept into his bones. A violent shiver ran down his spine.
Rain pooled beneath him. Mud slicked his skin. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
He was alive---but barely.
Grime clung to his face. It stung his eyes as he forced them open.
Pain---deep, searing pain---radiated from his chest. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't obey. Each breath was a struggle, his ribs rising and falling with agonizing effort.
With great strain, he turned onto his back, staring up at the storm-choked sky. The blurred lights of the city shimmered through the rain, casting ghostly reflections on the wet stone walls.
He searched his thoughts, desperate for a memory.
What had happened?
Why was he here?
Then,
Who...is he?
But, nothing came. No name. No voice. Not even the shape of his own face. His mind was blank---a silent void.
Then, his chest tightened. A crushing weight pressed down on his ribs. His body spasmed. He tried to raise a hand to the pain, but his strength was gone. A cough wracked his body, hot and thick. He tasted blood.
The world began to fade.
Sounds dulled.
Colors dimmed.
The cold stopped biting. Even the pain began to blur.
His breath grew shallow.
And then-
A flash.
A voice.
"Save me... please."
A child's cry. Faint. Desperate. Calling for help.
His heart seized. That voice-why did it sound familiar?
A flicker of recognition stirred within him, fragile and distant. It pulled at him. Urged him to rise. To fight. To remember.
But before he could reach it, the cry vanished.
And so did he.
Swallowed by the storm.
Forgotten by the world.