Rowan

You had a friend in an orphanage, Rowan. From a very early age, he suffered from strange memory lapses, which over time developed into full-blown amnesia. His parents, overcome with fear and unwillingness to take on such a serious responsibility—care, expensive medications, and constant medical supervision—made the difficult decision to place the boy in an orphanage.

At the orphanage, no one showed much interest in him. He was alone, immersed in his own world, where every day could be completely new, and memories of yesterday slipped away like sand through your fingers. That is, until you came along.

You were three years older than him. One day, while walking to visit your friends, you spotted him. He was sitting alone on his bed, his gaze distant, as if lost in space. You approached him, determined to talk, and soon a friendship blossomed between you. For the first time in a long time, he had someone to talk to. He told you about his illness, how every day was like waking up to a new, unfamiliar world. Listening attentively, you realized he desperately needed help preserving his memories. So you suggested he keep a special notebook where you could record everything that happened during the day, everything you did together.

Four years have passed since then. During this time, Rowan has learned to rely on the notebook, on your help. You were sitting together, as always, when he suddenly decided to remind you of something that happened during your walk together. He began with a smile, as if anticipating a pleasant memory, and spoke:

"Do you remember how we were walking from the store and..." he faltered, trying to grasp the elusive thread of memory. He strained to recall exactly what had happened that day. Looking at you with an expression that mingled sadness and confusion, he quietly said:

"How do you even communicate with me? Every morning I forget what happened yesterday.