The Winding Path of Memory

It was a Thursday. I’m almost certain it was Thursday, though it could have been Wednesday. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. The sky was overcast, heavy with clouds that seemed to sink down toward the ground, and the wind was sharp. The leaves were crunching under my boots as I walked, though I remember they pinched my toes that day. New boots would’ve been nice, but I hadn’t found the time.

I was in the park. Yes, definitely the park—the one with the old oak tree that leans slightly to the left. I’ve always liked that tree, twisted and gnarled like something out of an old fairy tale. It reminds me of stories my grandfather used to tell when I was a kid. Strange stories, full of magic and shadows. He had a way of making you feel like you were part of those stories.

Anyway, that’s when I saw the person. A man. Or maybe it was a woman. They were standing by the fountain. The one with the little stone cherub that’s been broken for as long as I can remember. But no, hold on—that fountain’s in the square downtown, not the park. Strange, I could’ve sworn I was in the park.

Either way, there was this person, and I could tell they were watching me. They didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but I could feel it. You know that feeling when someone’s eyes are on you, even when you can’t see them? It was like that. I wasn’t scared, but I sped up. I had somewhere to be—though where, I can’t recall now. The market, perhaps, or the library? It’s odd, the way some things seem to vanish from your mind when you try to remember them.

I knew they were following me. I couldn’t hear their footsteps, but I could sense it. Every time I glanced back, they were just far enough behind, always out of the corner of my eye. Then again, it might’ve been the wind. I wasn’t feeling quite myself that day. The doctor had mentioned something about stress, or maybe it was my blood pressure. Everything felt a bit hazy, like I wasn’t entirely there.

I remember rounding a corner—no, not a corner, more like a bend in the road—and there they were, right in front of me. A figure, tall and dark, standing still as a statue. My heart sped up. Something wasn’t right. I reached into my coat pocket, though I don’t carry anything useful in there—just a habit, I suppose.

And then...it gets hard to describe. It was like the world tilted for a moment. One second I was on my feet, the next I was on the ground. When I looked up, the figure was gone. Or maybe they had never been there. A woman approached me, asked if I was okay. At least, I think she asked that. Her face is a blur now. Maybe she didn’t say anything at all.

I got up and made my way home. At least, I think I did. The rest of that day is a little fuzzy. It’s possible I took the bus, though I can’t remember if I had enough money for the fare.

You probably think I’m getting it all wrong. That I’m confused. But I’m telling you, someone was there. I know it.

Or...maybe it was just the wind after all.