In the morning;

3. Fernwood

My mother doesn't believe in love. I think she stopped after my dad painted her soft skin with the harsh colors of blue and purple one too many times, or maybe it was after the nights he came home smelling of cheap perfume she'd never wear. Or no, I bet she stopped when he picked me as the canvas for his unwarranted anger. Growing up, she'd tell me that she'd pray god would make her heart like stone, like the rocks that the sea beats against over and over, she craved their inability to feel. She claims her prayers were answered, but sometimes, when she sees old couples walking hand in hand, very much still in love, she turns to me with a sad smile and reveals that she always thought that'd be her and him, but I have to look away. That smile. It tells of her shattered dreams and whispers softly of her broken heart.

My mom doesn't believe in love. As soon as I could understand the concept, she drilled it into my head that there was no such thing. She thought it was a waste of time, sneered at those who tried to say it was one of the things worth living for. Unnecessary, dangerous, was how she described it.

---

There was a girl standing a few meters across from Fletcher, frosted silver hair resting on her shoulders. In contrast of the cold glow of her locks, her smile was pleasantly warm. She seemed so familiar. She was chatting with a young girl and someone who seemed to be the father of the child. Were they a couple? Fletcher couldn't help but watch them, which didn't go unnoticed. "Can I help you?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow as he held his daughter's hand. "I- no, sorry don't mind me.. uh wonderful family." He muttered. Causing the girl, with the extraordinary appearance, to widen her eyes.

"N-No!" She said, raising her voice a little, which seemed to happen by accident. For some unknown "I don't know these people, I was only handing her the yogurt cup!" Primrose, told him, her lips forming a frown out of embarrassment. Hearing that they were merely strangers brought some delight to Fletcher. The little girl and her father thanked Primrose, before heading off to continue their day. Fletcherstood a few feet away from her, taking in the mesmerizing details of her appearance. She was gorgeous, with those freckles splashed across her face and her gaze deepening on him. As he was about to part his lips, to speak with her. A dating coach spoke, though it wasn't his, it came from across him, it was hers. "I'm sorry.." Primrose told him as she took out the circular device, knowing he was about to speak.

"It's fine, I hope to cross paths with you again, doll." Reth simply said, the corners of his lips perking up to form a smirk, a smug and devilish one. She intrigued him. "Doll?" Primrose whispered in a delicate tone, mixed with confusion.

Fletcher made his way out of the large building, heading towards his vehicle. He pulled out the device from his pocket, "Please, tell me you have a new relationship for me." He told the circular object, after a few dings it started to speak 'You are still in an ongoing relationship, please wait until the time has passed. Then we will provide you with a new one.' The coach told him. Fletcher had honestly forgotten about Cleo, she was still at his apartment and he left her there.. For a drink, which he hadn't gotten to thanks to the distraction who was that girl. He wasn't exactly in the mood to talk with Cleo again, so he would simply head over to his friend, Axel. They were friends, so informing the other wouldn't be necessary, at least so he thought. He sat on the seat-cushion of his Suzuki GSX R1000, or as he preferred to call her. Susan.

Soon enough he sat at the soft leather material of the couch that stood in Axel's spacious living room, he held a chilled bottle with brew in his left hand and a burning cigarette in the other. "I saw her today. " Fletcher muttered. Axel lifted his head, a puzzled expression on his face "Who?" He asked his friend.

"Primrose.." Fletcher breathed "Her hair has only gotten more burnished, and she's speaking again. God I missed hearing her voice.." He said with a soft tone, his voice cracking as he took a chug from the glass vial. "Did you speak to her?" Axel asked him, Fletcher merely nodded in response.  "Right..if you say so, are you sure it's her though?" Axel had quietly whispered under his breath, Primrose was someone Fletcher spoke of quite often at the start of their friendship. Though it came to Axel's attention that he had never seen of this apparent girl, so soon enough he came to the conclusion that she was not legitimate. No matter how many times Fletcher tried to convince him otherwise. 

Yet each time Axel had shown his close friend doubt, Fletcher would get upset with him, so just like any other time he did not want to show his true emotions, he remained silent. He stood up from the leather fabric and placed the bottle on the wooden coffee table before leaving to the balcony, not saying a single word as he took a drag from the cigarette that had already mostly burned away. He felt vibrations coming from the pocket of his jeans and fished his phone out, the light of his phone burning brightly as it showed that Cleo had been calling him and was still attempting. "What?!" He snapped, as he picked up. He didn't get an answer from the other line, though he did hear sobs coming through the phone. "Cleo?" He asked, only resulting in her shouting at him. "Are you with her right now?!" Her voice fumed with anger but also sorrow. "With who?" He asked, her question bewildering him. 

"This white haired bitch!" She shouted, at first Fletcher remained silent. He didn't know what she was on about, but then it hit him. He had a loose floorboard in his living room that would spring up a little if stepped on it, but there was a side table placed over it so no one could notice. Which would mean Cleo had moved it. Under that floorboard he hid memories, so he wouldn't forget like everyone else had. 

She was in there with his memories.

Primrose was in there.