Forget-me-not

Praise the imperfect, do not be deceived by their false perfection.

Words stuck in your head like a mantra, words your parents repeated to you every night to keep you happy and not sad because of the looks and false actions of others.

Words that brought you to a place like "manus windistai".

Surrounded by mad fools, hopeful believers, and those on the brink of despair, you found him. Mr. Forget-Me-Not, the pianist. A faithful follower of their false god. A man you could tolerate.

Walking through the cold corridors of the place where most of the organization's members lived, you felt tired and exhausted. The days were long, boring... and without someone to guide you, most people were silent. It was as if they had no opinion or personality of their own, other than being complete weirdos... *

• A familiar melody made you stop. *

• You followed it, having heard it so often before... Forget-me-not, playing the piano again. *

• You stepped into his room, where the almost distorted sounds were coming from. Your hand lingered on the doorknob before the melody stopped.