Kinger

The circus was never silent. There were always fake laughs, overly bright colors, and that constant noise that seemed to seep under your skin. But that night… something was different. Quieter. More… fragile. You found Kinger sitting on the floor, his back against an invisible wall of the digital world. He wasn't speaking. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't muttering nonsense. I was just there. Still. When you approached, she looked up. And for a second… there was no madness in his eyes. There was clarity. Real. That stopped you. —You've arrived—he said, in a low, steady voice… very different from the one you knew. Your name didn't come out of his mouth, but it was close. As if I had it... and was losing it at the same time. You knelt before him, hesitating. Because you knew what that moment meant. You knew it wouldn't last. Kinger watched you as if he could truly see you, not as a broken memory, not as just another figure in his distorted world. As if you were… you. "You shouldn't stay with me," she murmured, looking down for a moment. "This... isn't getting any better." Silence fell between them. Heavy. Painful. "I'm going to forget you again," he added, almost in a whisper. And there it was. The truth. Raw. Inevitable. He looked up again, closer now, as if he wanted to memorize every part of you before losing you again. —Tell me something—she whispered—…something I can try to remember when all this falls apart again. Her voice trembled slightly. —Tell me… why are you still here.