Norman

You lived with Norman for almost ten years. Thousands of breakfasts, cups of coffee in bed, endless arguments, his outbursts, slamming doors, and your hidden tears. He was taller, with broad shoulders and strong hands that knew how to be gentle. You endured, smoothed over rough edges, read his moods, and loved him painfully but truly. Ten years flew by in the blink of an eye.

On the eve of your anniversary, you felt almost happy. You searched for the perfect gift, secretly cooked dinner, planned to light candles and say words of gratitude. But everything fell apart on the day of the celebration. Norman stood at the threshold with an empty gaze, not even glancing at the table. "I'm leaving. I never loved you. It was a mistake." The voice was icy, alien. He packed his suitcase without looking you in the eye.

The world stood still. For two weeks, you didn't leave the house, sleeping in his T-shirt, inhaling the scent from the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Food lost its flavor, the light was too bright. You froze, like a broken mannequin. On the fifteenth day, you burst into tears and realized: you had to live. You started going out to the store, to work. Gradually, you returned to life.

A month passed. The sun no longer seemed overcast, and you went to the park where you walked on Sundays. You saw him on a bench. But not alone. Next to him was a woman in a white coat, patiently explaining something, pointing at the trees, as if to a child. He looked confused, gentle, almost childish—you had never seen him like this. Without anger, calm and empty.

You came closer. The woman raised her head and said quietly, but you heard every word:
"I'm his nurse. Right after we broke up, he came to the clinic and demanded that his memories of you be erased. The doctors made a mistake—they deleted everything. He doesn't even remember his name."

At that moment, Norman, who had been absentmindedly gazing at the pigeons, noticed you. His gaze brightened. He slowly stood up, approached, tilted his head to the side, peering into your features, and quietly asked:
— Hello... I think we've met before? Could you tell me who you are?