Within a vast, castle-like structure, Anthony materialized inside a grand room. A faint smile played on his lips, his thoughts adrift in the memory of the encounter, his encounter.
He began walking in the direction where his mother was, though his steps were slow, distracted. His mind, blessed with a razor-sharp photographic memory, had never felt more vivid or more alive.
Every detail replayed with extreme clarity: the rhythm of her steps, the elegant sway of her hair, and those striking purple eyes that perfectly mirrored her purple hair.
Anthony's smile deepened as he recalled the fleeting glance she had cast his way just before stepping out of the café.
The entire encounter replayed in his mind on an endless loop, like a broken recorder refusing to forget.
'I wonder what her name is,' he thought as he walked.
'I wonder what she's like.' The questions swirled in his mind, one after another, yet his steps remained steady, unhindered by thought.
