“I’m heading out.”

I put on my uniform. It’s a white shirt with a blue collar and a cotton logo imprinted on the left side with a pocket on the right, and a plain brown pair of pants. The outfit smelled like a white collar office, filled with workers clocking in for their 9-5’s, the slight hint of heat from the shirt that was fresh off the iron felt comfortable. I attached my work ID to my shirt pocket and put my hat on, and walked out of the door, and into the street.

“Stay safe out there! Don’t forget to bring me something nice!”

The sound of a slammed window echoes across the dark, empty street, only lit by a few street lights.

“Mom, people are trying to sleep, don’t shout.”

I say under my breath like a disappointed parent. Sometimes I feel too embarrassed to associate with her. A slight smile and a sigh escape my clenched face. With one step ahead of the other, I head towards the direction of my workplace. Right, left, forward, second right, it is by no means a long walk, but along the way, there was not a single car in sight… Not that it’s convenient to drive a car in all this snow. Speaking of, has the snow gotten thicker recently?

A big sign read “’S JUNCTION GAS & GO” above the modern, sleek looking building. The H in , U, N and C in Junction, and A in Gas had flickering neon lights, while the other letters lit up just fine. I opened the door and made the bell ring, then made my way to the staff only room behind the counter, the second door in a corridor stretching out to a backdoor, where a garbage container sat right outside the window. I put my bag containing my belongings there, a Walkman, water bottle, and a bunch of postcards. I walked towards the direction of the counter, before punching in my code to clock in.

As I walk to the counter, I spot a walking corpse, barely maintaining his posture walking towards me with his arms outstretched and dangling

“Morning, boss.”

I greet him by raising my hands and he goes for a high five, before awkwardly realizing that wasn’t my intention. I chuckle under my breath before he straightens himself and takes a peek out the backdoor.

“I’ll man the counter, do me a favor and shovel the damn snow.”

He says before pulling out a lighter, and putting a cigarette butt first into his mouth, before realizing and flipping it around.

“Should you really be smoking in a gas station?”

“Are you gonna ask me that everytime?”

“My bad for being concerned for you.”

He shooed me away with his hand.

“Your concern is wasted on me anyway.”

As I walked off to get a shovel, he put the lighter to the cigarette and tried to light it multiple times to no avail.

“Nothing works in this damn cursed city!”

I hear him shout as I close the backdoor behind me. With my shovel in hand I get to work, bit by bit and inch by inch the parking lot finally looks inviting. As soon as I shoveled the snow off the ground, it shriveled up and melted, as if the floor was scorching hot.

“Want me to shovel the forecourt too?”

I shout, hoping  hears me.

“I got it, thanks kid.”

I walk into the store, walk to the snack aisle, grab a juice box, and sit outside in the freshly shoveled parking lot, on the curb of the sidewalk. The dim light and droning noise from the hardly working street lights made for a nice ambience to sit idly. I pull out my Walkman, plug in my earphones, and put a bud in my left ear, and set it to shuffle.

In my peripheral vision, I see someone walk up towards the gas station. A couple cars pass through before they’re able to cross. She’s dressed in a puffer jacket, a beanie, with thick fur boots and gloves. She waves and walks my direction holding a couple notebooks and a plastic bag rocking back and forth with her movements.

“You know it’s not actually cold, right?”

If I was feeling warm in my light uniform, she definitely didn’t need to leave the house wearing this many layers.

“I know,  wouldn’t let me leave dressed lightly though.” 

I get up to high five her. The second both of our hands meet it sends a shock wave of noise reverberating throughout the whole street. I just know if heard that, he’d be jealous…

“How was school today, Lotte?”

I interrupt her lighting her cigarette. She looks at me briefly with a puzzled look on her face, as if I said a completely out-of-pocket statement.

“You never come, why ask now?”

“Is it so wrong to be curious?”

She held her opened pack of cigarettes close to my face, urging me to take one. She knows I’d say no, but she’d always clap back with ‘C’mon, the pack’s already open, I’ll only charge you half price!’ I shake my head in refusal like every other time.

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“Tch, buzzkill.”

“Don’t pout so hard.”

“You’re so disrespectful, making a girl beg.”

“You can always drop it.”

“C’mon! What’s the harm in one?”

“Mom wouldn’t be proud.”

“I bet she’d be real proud of you skipping school.”

As if reminded of something, she stopped in her tracks, looking for something around her, before handing me the notebooks she was holding earlier.

“Before I forget.”

“What’s this?”

“Notes. You asked for them, remember?”

“Since when do you even take your own notes?”

“Taking notes for you is different.”

With her elbow, she playfully hits my shoulder. With a sly smile and a worrying gaze, her lips part.

“You owe me one.” 

I got up from the curb, dusted off my clothes and walked off from the gas station into the empty street.

“Wanna go get postcards?”

Charlotte looked at me, unfazed, her eyes almost piercing my soul.

“I know your mom asked you to get something nice, but I don’t think she wants you to skip work.”

I walked off without her, not wanting to hear anything else come out of her mouth. Before the gas station was out of sight from the misty air, She came running to catch up to me, severely out of breath from a jog across the street.

“You might want to join track.”

Whatever smile she had on her face quickly faded, replaced with a straight face trying really hard not to cuss me out over my joke.

“You might want to come to class.”

We arrive at a small humble building, a small unbranded store warmly lit by an orange light bulb greeted us at the door. Plants were spread out all across the windowsill, 7 pots of flowers, arranged white, purple, yellow, white, pink, white and blue.

We walk in and ring the bell at the counter. A woman walks out hurriedly and greets us both. 

“Please come in, you two!”

“We just wanna get postca-”

She cut us both off, pushing us both toward a  room, covered the walls and was spread all over the floor. In front of us was a bright red coloured couch with decorations covered in , likely the aftermath of a . 

“Miss , we can’t do this ever-”

“Sit down, my children!”

She spoke with a wide, genuine smile, offering us two cups of  on a small tray, adorned with , coloured a bright . She placed the tray on a small coffee table, and brought 2 chairs for each of us. 

“Please, join me.”

Me and Charlotte looked bewildered, like every other time, we couldn't bear to refuse. 

“We can’t ‘join her’ if she didn’t bring herself a coffee.”

Lotte laughs, I just look at the coffee in contemplation.

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

I get smacked across the back of the head. Lotte puts a finger in front of my lips, urging me to seal my mouth shut.

“Just drink up, mama’s boy.”

Charlotte smiled wickedly, put an arm on my shoulder and spoke in my ear.

“If you hang out with me, I’ll teach you how to have fun.”

That’s all I remember.

“Are you sure? Try racking your brain a bit, maybe you can dredge up something.”

“... Sorry doctor, I truly can’t remember anything else.”

“Hm.”

The therapist had a habit of leaving his notebook open, he noted down every word June said in a chronological manner, crossing out details June was unsure of. Usually, it was nothing too offensive. This time however, it was a diagnosis. 

He looks at the notebook, then back at the therapist. The look of bewilderment on his face could only spell out one word. “How?” 

“Your brain forgets. That’s how it protects you.”

June holds his hands out and opens his palms facing towards him and buries his face in them. He barely suppresses his urge to wail. Guided by his emotions, as if sleepwalking, he mindlessly walks to the door, and tries to twist the door handle in haste, trying his best to block out the noise.

“June, you freeze in place hearing about a new case.” 

Still stretching out his arms, fiddling with the door handle. He stops in his tracks and faces his therapist.

“I don’t know who told you that, and I don’t care.”

“Me and you both know that’s not a normal reaction. You’re a detective, you should breeze through these things.”

 The therapist paused for a second.

“Do you remember how Lotte ended up?”

His pupils dilate, there’s a gap in his memories. A thick, misty fog resided where they used to be. The more he tried to pry, the more it hurt. He remembered Lotte and his mom, but they looked glossy. Their faces were covered in a thick, unrelenting, blood red mist. Every time he tried to piece together what they used to look like, the mist, as if sentient, blocked his view further. He recalled his friends... Right? He remembered all the memories they shared, but he didn't remember names, looks, nor personalities, he couldn't even relate them to anything he knew. June sits back down, holding his forehead in response to a throbbing headache. Out of everything, the one thing he always remembered, were his surroundings. He never really paid attention to them, and yet he could recount them as if he was seeing them in real time.

“Listen. If you don’t want to come back here, that’s fine.”

June snaps out of it, his line of thought cut abruptly. The therapist takes out a box from behind his office chair and pulls out a large, dark green coloured, plastic wrapped book which still smelled like the stationery store. He unwraps the diary and places it firmly into June’s pale hands. 

“If you remember anything, write it down. Write down your day to day, down to the dirty details like you’ve done today. Even your dealings with the mist.” 

A grim, almost pitying look draws on the doctor’s face as he holds the dark-haired man’s hand between both of his palms. 

“We all just want the best for you.”