Erich opened his eyes to the soft, muted light filtering through curtains. The room around him was unfamiliar—a child’s bedroom. The walls were adorned with bright colors, decorated with posters of cartoon characters and animals, while a small bed with rumpled sheets stood against one corner. For a moment, Erich lay there, disoriented, his mind struggling to connect the dots. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The room felt strangely nostalgic, as if it belonged to a past he couldn’t quite place. Erich stood up, his feet sinking slightly into the plush carpet, and made his way to the door. As his hand grasped the doorknob and swung the door open,he heard a noise from the hallway—a soft click, followed by the sound of small feet pattering on the wooden floor.
The door to the bathroom, just a few steps away, swung open, and a child—a boy no older than six or seven—ran out, giggling as he hurried down the hallway toward the stairs. Erich watched him go, his expression neutral, almost indifferent. He followed the boy, moving down the stairs and into a cozy kitchen where the aroma of breakfast filled the air.
Standing by the stove was a woman—her back to Erich—busily preparing breakfast. Her movements were fluid, practiced, as she flipped pancakes and scrambled eggs with a motherly ease. The boy, who had taken a seat at the table, bounced slightly in his chair, full of energy.
“Erich,Did you brush your teeth?” the woman asked without turning around, her voice warm and affectionate.
The boy nodded eagerly. “I did!”
Erich stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold as though he were a ghost—an observer in someone else’s life. The woman finally turned, placing plates of food on the table. Her face was kind, framed by soft brown curls that bounced slightly as she moved. She smiled at the boy, her eyes filled with warmth. “Good. Now, go and call your father for breakfast.”
The boy jumped up from his seat and darted past Erich, who stepped aside, watching him run toward a door at the end of the hallway. The boy flung it open, revealing a small storage room where a man was arranging boxes. The man looked up, his eyes tired, but he smiled as the boy ran up to him, tugging at his sleeve.
“Dad, breakfast is ready!”
The father ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately after setting down the box he was holding. As the boy chattered excitedly with his father about his morning, Erich quietly walked through the hallway heading towards the bathroom. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of soap and toothpaste. A small stool stood beside the sink.
Without hesitation, Erich knelt down and pushed the stool aside, revealing a loose tile on the floor. He pried it open with a practiced hand, reaching into the hidden compartment beneath. His fingers closed around something cold and metallic—a gun. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled it out, the weight of it heavy in his hand.
He rose to his feet, his expression unreadable, and brought the gun to the side of his head. The cold barrel pressed against his temple, sending a chill through his skin. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as his finger tightened on the trigger. For a moment, time seemed to stand still—then he exhaled, pressing down.
Click.
Erich’s eyes snapped open. He was lying on his couch, the soft hum of the television filling the room with a quiet murmur. The early morning light was creeping through the curtains, casting long shadows across the living room floor. For a moment, he lay there, disoriented, as the remnants of the dream faded from his mind. It had been so vivid, so real, yet now it seemed distant, like a memory that didn’t quite belong to him.
With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “These dreams are getting more frequent” he muttered to himself, pushing himself off the couch and heading to the kitchen. The familiar routine of making coffee helped ground him, the rich aroma slowly bringing him back to reality.
The kitchen was small but functional, and within minutes, Erich was sitting at the table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He took a sip, savoring the bitter warmth as he let his thoughts drift.
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On his way to the hospital early that morning, Erich ran into a familiar face—his friend from the police force, who was standing near the entrance, talking with one of the nurses.
“Hey, Erich,” the policeman greeted him, tipping his hat in a casual salute
Erich nodded back, offering a small smile. “Morning, Hans. What brings you to the hospital today?”
Hans shrugged, his expression relaxed but sharp, the look of someone who was always on the job, even when he wasn’t. “Just finishing up some paperwork from a case nearby. You wouldn’t believe the stuff we deal with sometimes.”
Erich chuckled, though his curiosity was piqued. “Speaking of cases, I noticed police cars in my neighborhood last night. What happened?”
Hans’s face took on a more serious tone, though he didn’t lose his casual demeanor. “Ah, that. A woman killed her husband in one of the apartments. Domestic dispute turned ugly, as these things often do.”
Erich frowned slightly, disturbed by the news. “In my neighborhood? That’s surprising—it’s usually pretty quiet.”
“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” Hans replied, shrugging again. “Even the quietest places have their dark corners.”
There was a brief pause, then Hans grinned, his expression lightening. “But don’t worry about it too much. You don’t need to start thinking about stuff like that—especially since you’re not likely to have a wife to argue with anytime soon.”
Erich’s frown deepened into a scowl, a small spark of irritation flaring up. It was the second time in the past day that someone had teased him about not having a wife, and it was beginning to wear thin. “Very funny, Hans,” he muttered, his tone flat.
Hans laughed, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Just messing with you, Erich. Anyway, I’d better get back to work. You take care, and try not to let all that doctor stuff get to your head, eh?”
Erich managed a small, polite smile, though his irritation still simmered beneath the surface. “You too, Hans. Good luck with the case.”
With that, Hans tipped his hat again and walked away, whistling a tune as he went. Erich watched him go, shaking his head slightly.
Pushing the thought aside, Erich turned and continued on his way, determined to focus on the day ahead. But as he walked, a small voice in the back of his mind couldn’t help but wonder if everyone was in on the joke.
By the time Erich entered the hospital, the building was still quiet, with only a few nurses and doctors moving about. The morning shift had yet to fully start, and the air was filled with the soft murmur of voices and the occasional beep of machines. As Erich walked through the main entrance, he was greeted by the familiar sight of the female worker at the counter.
“Morning, Doctor,” she called out, glancing up from her work. “Early as always.”
Erich smiled, shaking off the last remnants of his dream. “Yeah, I really need to fix my sleeping schedule.”
She chuckled, a playful glint in her eye. “Maybe you should. Patient 402 is awake, by the way, if you’re planning to check on him.”
Erich raised an eyebrow, pretending to be impressed. “Can you read minds now?”
“Maybe,” she replied with a smirk, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Erich laughed, shaking his head. “Well, I’m heading there now. Have a good day.”
“You too, Doctor,” she called after him as he walked away, the sound of her fingers tapping on the keyboard fading behind him.
The hospital corridors were familiar, their sterile, white walls lined with doors that led to rooms filled with patients—each with their own stories, their own struggles. Erich made his way to Patient 402’s room, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hallway. When he reached the door, he knocked lightly.
“Good morning. May I come in?” he asked, his voice gentle but professional.
“Of course,” came the reply, calm and composed as always.
Erich pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Patient 402 was sitting up in bed, a slight smile on his face. The vase with two red roses still sat on the bedside table, the vibrant flowers a stark contrast to the sterile environment.
“Good morning,” Erich greeted him, walking over to the bed. “Did you sleep well?”
402’s smile widened slightly. “I did, thank you for asking.”
Erich nodded, taking a seat beside the bed. “You’re quite early for a monitoring session, if I’m not wrong?",asked 402.
Erich chuckled softly. “No need to worry. I didn’t come here for a session. I just wanted to check on you and talk some more.”
“That’s sweet of you, Doctor,” 402 replied, his tone light, almost teasing.
As Erich settled into his chair, his gaze fell on a book resting on the bedside table. The cover was simple, depicting a tree with flowers blooming beneath it—a stark, yet beautiful image. “I see you’ve been reading,” he remarked, nodding toward the book. “Do you like books?”
Patient 402 followed Erich’s gaze and nodded. “Yes, I do. This was one of many I requested, but it’s the only one that was accepted by the staff.”
Erich raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s it about?”
“It’s a book of poetry,” 402 explained, his voice softening as he spoke. “I requested books on philosophy and psychology, but poetry was the closest to what I’m interested in that got approved.”
Erich leaned back slightly, considering his response. “If you’re interested in philosophy and psychology, I can approve some books for you. As your attending physician, I have that authority.”
For the first time since they met, Patient 402’s expression brightened, a genuine look of surprise and gratitude crossing his face. “Really? You can do that?”
Erich smiled, nodding. “Yes. I believe that reading books on subjects you’re passionate about might help trigger some memories or at least keep your mind engaged in a healthy way.”
402’s gaze softened, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, Doctor. You’re the closest person I have right now.”
Erich felt a strange warmth in his chest at those words, a sense of connection that he hadn’t expected. “I’ll make sure to help you as much as I can,” he said sincerely, glancing at his watch. “But for now, I need to check in for work.”
402 nodded, his smile unwavering. “Of course. Thank you for checking on me.”
Erich stood, giving the patient one last nod before turning to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, looking back over his shoulder. “You can write down the books you want, and I’ll take a look at them later.”
402 nodded in agreement, and Erich left the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked back through the hospital’s quiet halls, his mind was already shifting to the tasks ahead. But even as he prepared to dive into his day’s work, the connection he felt with Patient 402 lingered, a subtle but undeniable presence in the back of his mind.