August Reveries (FreenBecky)

Chapter 4: The Day I Believed in Destiny

- ABBY -

Seven years ago [Melbourne, Australia]

Those pretty brown eyes continued to haunt me.

It's been over three months, but I still have flashbacks to that night. And it's truly mind-boggling how a single glance—a fleeting moment—could last for this long.

I can't even recall what I ate for breakfast yesterday, but here I am, reliving that magical moment over and over and over again.

If only I could find her. The restlessness is killing me.

But where do I even begin? I don't know where on earth, let alone know who exactly I'm looking for. If I wasn't such a drooling fool, I could have asked for her name.

Also, why did she disappear like that? And fast? I looked away for a split second, and she just went *poof* —vanished like a bubble. Was she just a figment of my imagination? But then, I can perfectly remember feeling the electric sparks that flew when she caught me from falling—how her touch seemed to burn onto my skin as she held me.

Not to mention the location where we met, there were thousands of people from all walks of life, locals and tourists. That alone makes everything complicated.

Narrowing it down will be like looking for a needle in a haystack, especially since I have nothing, nothing but this insanely vivid memory of her mesmerizing brown eyes and ethereal face—I am a hundred percent convinced she is a goddess. There's no way, no bloody way she is a human. 

~

trish @kkkrabbyypattyy

Dear Miss Pretty Brown Eyes from #SIAMsongkranfestival

Hey, it's me again. The girl you bumped into at the main stage - Day 1.

If by any chance you are reading this, please DM me.

I am not a creep, I promise. 😊

10:32 AM • 1 Aug 2023

~

I sent the tweet and sat back, staring blankly at the white ceiling.

I've been trying my luck to find the woman online. Yes, I'm that desperate. But all of the DMs I've received have been from either posers, wannabes, or creepy men.

This entire case is just so bloody hopeless, I swear to god.

"Oi, Trishyyy~" Kirstin's sing-songy voice snapped me back to reality.

I lazily look down at my best friend, who's holding a tray with my order. My head is resting nicely on top of the soft backrest, and the rest of my body has not moved an inch from its slouched position.

I'm in my usual spot in Kirstin's café, the only couched booth in a cozy corner. From here, I can perfectly see people coming in and out of the green-painted door, as well as busy pedestrians speed-walking outside through the large glass window.

Apart from the door sticking out like a sore thumb, the rest of the café is painted white; the washed oak flooring is neatly maintained, and the beige tables and chairs are evenly distributed, leaving plenty of room for customers to move around. There are indoor plants everywhere, a small bookshelf near the entrance, and the entire place is just filled with the aromatic smell of roasted coffee. The tiny fireplace in the other side corner adds to the homey atmosphere, as does the strictly no-shoes-allowed rug in front of it, which customers can sit on if they want to.

I'd say Kirstin did a pretty good job of making this place nice and cozy. It's quite popular with university students and young adults working in the area, so the café is almost never deserted.