Checkpoint A; XX7th time

“Whachya doing?” Carice asks.

What’s going on? Where is this place? Am I back to reality?

“Oh… but when will you be done with your work?” Carice asks again.

The small girl in front of me is talking to the empty space in front of her. It’s still another checkpoint, but this hasn’t happened before. It’s a new checkpoint. Calm down. If it’s another checkpoint, I have all the time in the world to investigate. Breathe in. Breathe out.

This is the apartment we lived in before we moved. Together with Alex and Carice, we lived here for a couple of years. It’s quite small now that I see it. A bit cramped.

“Yay! Does that mean we can go play later this afternoon?” With a bright smile, she runs across me (the ghost) and into her room.

“You’d better not break her promise this time.”

That voice. I recognise that voice. I often hear that voice when I am asleep. Alex!

“Don’t push it onto me! I’m busy too!”

“Alex… Alex… I…”

“I’m heading back to work.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I can finally see Alex again. I dream about this every day and finally, here I am. But it’s painful. Alex can’t see me. In Alex’s eyes, only the me who was oblivious to everything is present. If it means being able to trade my position with the checkpoint-A-me, I won’t mind going through checkpoint one for another hundreds of times, thousands of times.

I missed you so much, Alex.

*

Checkpoint B; XX8th time

Lying in a hospital bed, Alex is setting up a violin.

“It’s fine. You love hearing me play.”

The first movement of Sibelius’s violin concerto. One of my favourite pieces. Beautiful as usual. Just when the second theme comes up, Alex stops to my surprise. Why would Alex stop at the best part?

“Sure,” Alex says.

Elgar’s Salut d’Amour starts playing. It’s the piece played at our wedding. The sweet sound of the violin echoes in the room, filling me with immeasurable pleasure, and immense pain. This is the past. In reality, Alex will never play the violin ever again. Please, Alex, I beg of you, never stop playing. At least continue to play forever when I’m in this checkpoint.

Soon, the held high-E note stops. Alex puts the violin down and starts unwinding the bow.

“Can you promise me something?”

I must have said yes.

“Promise me to live on after I die.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But we both know it’s true. I know you too well. If you don’t promise me that, I’m afraid you’ll do something you’ll regret.”

“” (When I don’t know what I said then, I’ll denote it by “”)

“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to see you be unhappy.”

“”

“Fantastic. Now I can go in peace.” Eyes closing, Alex lies on the bed.

“”

“Hahaha! You should’ve looked at your face, idiot. I’m just sleeping. I… I… can’t… Hahaha!” Alex is tearing up from laughing too hard. “Before you go. One more thing.”

“”

“Yes, it is.”

“”

“The best.”

“”

“Thanks.”

“”

“Bye.”

What did I say back then? I can’t seem to remember.

Hmm… Maybe giving this a good rating can bring back my memory! (Not)