gambling money

"Alright, could you sign here?" The scientist handed you the pen and a clipboard. You took a deep breath, it's worth the money. Even if you have no idea truly what was going to happen. Scratching your signature into the ink, not exactly your finest work.

"Good, good. I'll keep my explanation concise and brief, if you need any further clarifications please ask." You nodded, feeling a hair uncomfortable. That door is staring into your very soul, painted white and twice the size of a normal one.

"When you go inside there will be a room, it's based off your past, a favourable time– take note of every detail. If something seems wrong mentally take note, enjoy yourself. It's supposed to be recreational. We're paying you a pretty penny because–" The scientist leans forward on her desk. "Every possible venture into that place is different, we've seen come back completely fine and people not come back at all."

"Oh great…"

"The ratio is historically positive, If you are in danger, run away." Great, so danger and a chance of death.

"Got it." You got up, inching closer to the ominous ingress.

"Now go earn that paycheck, see you soon."

"Bye."

With that, you pushed it open. The door creaks, taking all of your energy to get it open. Perhaps you should go to the gym more often. Keep your eyes focused on everything.

You are outside– the sun a white blob that shines down hell upon every surface. It's vivid, destructive. It focuses after a few seconds and looks more natural. Natural is a misnomer, things are awry. There's people going in and out of the void. Appearing on the road and disappearing on the other side.

There's one building on this entire street. A lone coffee shop, it's familiar– the black & pink sign was from your childhood. There's no chance it's the same place, that was burned to the ground. You turn around and look away.

Remember how we used to play?

There's two of you, sat on the coffee table your parents kept getting mad at you for. They yell but you and her can't hear.

"Hehe, try this." Yena's stolen her mother's coffee, passing it to you. The taste of dirt fills your lungs.

"That's grossssss!" You whine out, getting a laugh from your dear friend.

"I know! How do they drink this?" She's already moving on, throwing herself onto the table.

"I am not insane." You say to yourself, opening your eyes again. Looking back at the coffee shop, nostalgia forces it open.

That scent reminds you of someone. Flowers fighting roasted beans, you breathe it in. Theres tables of various circles and shapes, exactly the ones you remember. The left most light fixture is pink hued from paint you splattered.

Dreaming of our own galaxies.

They gave you paint, that was the worst mistake they've ever made. Who gives paint to two children inside a coffee shop? It's nothing short of idiocy. It's no surprise what happens.

"Let's try to sling it." She giggles, holding a paintbrush half dressed by purple. She throws it forward but few droplets get anywhere.

"I've got it!" You reply quickly, dipping it in a spolge of pink. Flinging it to great effect. Shouts and screams, annoyed employees and relatives follow.

She stares, you see her frown. It's hollow.

"I am not insane." You say again to comfort yourself, these memories pour in quicker than you can blink. The counter, those employees. The only people you don't recognise.

Or do you?

The girl on the left– brown hair, cut short and circular. She's wearing a collar that matches the colour scheme of the shop, fingers resting casually on the counter. Her expression is smily but vacant– lips not matching her eyes.

There's another on the right, she's less identifiable. She's wearing a collar as well, is that just part of the simulation? This coffee shop had history but collars wasn't something you could recall.

Come, play in oceans of mind

You and her are teenagers now, she's dragged you back her for nostalgia's sake. The coffee's gotten better or perhaps you've grown up. She's also grown up in quite a lot of regards, being your gateway into everything you have become. If only this moment lasted.

Bitterness follows.

And you can't remember why.

The feeling of ash is on your skin.

"I am not insane." It feels more forceful this time.

"Yena! Can you take it from here? I've got a meeting." The woman on the right says, already leaving.

"No problem Hyunjin, I've got it! Get out of here!" Yena shouts out, that name is familiar. It carries sentimentality you can barely recall. Its palpable, "What can I get for you?" she's focused on you.

You say nothing, but Yena nods and starts making something anyway. And before long, there's a pink coffee in front of you with a heart shape foam. "Here you go!" You take it confused– moving towards the exact table you always sat at. It was always reserved for you two.

Firm cushioning, just like then. Exactly. Your eyes turned to Yena, look a bit higher. There's cat-ears embedded into her hair, those weren't there a minute ago. There's a compulsion to talk, to understand what's going on. You know the premise, you read the document.

This was not what you expected.

Why this memory?

It's faded over time, rusted out of your memory until even the names and faces are removed. Why has it been brought back? The money isn't worth the upheaval or the time spent trying to figure this out. There's no way out.

The door doesn't exist anymore.

So you take a sip of the drink– reflective of your childish palette, enough sugar to make someone bounce from wall to wall. It fills you with contempt, a sense of longing. Yena comes to sit with you, a drink of her own.

"It's been awhile hasn't it?" She starts, the look on her face sweet as honey.

You have to pluck the courage out of the air to even let one word creak out, the air's still and suffocating. Unnatural. "Awhile?"

"Since we've last talked, the fact you didn't remember me hurts." Yena sips on her beverage, drinking casually like everything is normal. "You've repressed those memories quite a bit huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Think deeper, probe your mind for me. It's worth it."

Her words trigger something.

Looks likе the stars won't shine much longer.