Five Words

He was just sitting there at the corner of the room where his desk was situated near the window. The teacher handed out blank pieces of paper which the students passed until everyone at the back had one. The piece of paper he received was cream in color. He compared his piece of paper to everyone else's. Suzy, the girl in front of him, got pink. Gabriel, the boy around 3 seats away from him, got green. Natalie, the girl in front of Gabriel, got purple. His best friend, Cole, got blue. 

To him, the colors didn't really matter. He didn't even know what they were supposed to write. He was listening, but he just can't remember. He was busy looking out the window wondering what will he be doing first when he reaches his home. He looked at everyone else and saw that they were all writing seriously. He tried to remember what the teacher just told them to do, but to no avail. What he is sure of, is that it didn't sound like it was important. He thought of what to write, but his head kept on wandering off into dreamland. This was his last class. Right after this, he could go home, walk straight into his room, blast his music to the highest level allowed by her mother, and just continue to dream about his future. The time flew by, and his paper was still blank. He racked his brain for something to write. All he can remember are the quotes that they spoke of in the previous class he had. He wrote down the only quote he can remember and passed the paper. Five words. The bell rang and everyone was out of the room by the time it stopped. 

He went home and did exactly what he thought he'd do. He walked straight to his room, blasted his music and continued to dream. He always thought he was a simple person with simple dreams. All he wanted to do was to work, travel, fall in love and have a family. As simple as that was, he knew in a way, it was impossible. It would be easy for anyone to fall in love, but difficult to stay. Some time before he went home, someone asked him what he wrote on the piece of paper they were told to write on. He barely even remembered.

Years pass and the same boy grew up to be a handsome man who works for a travel company. He was very lucky to find a good and stable job, and at the same time he was able to travel. His work wasn't to book and arrange flights. His job required him to travel to different places in a long period of time. He writes about his travels and all the good things about the place which the company uses to promote. He stood up from where he was seated at a tiny café writing about what had happened to him that day and where he went. He made it as detailed as possible just to make sure he won't forget a single second. He stood up and made sure he didn't forget to pay for his meal. It was raining outside. "It's good I brought my umbrella with me." He thought to himself. 

Just outside the door was a lady standing under the roof probably waiting for the rain to pass. The lady was beautiful. There was something about her that seemed so foreign yet familiar at the same time. To his surprise, his name was called. He turned to the lady and asked as politely as he can, "I'm sorry. I don't seem to recognize you, but have we met before?" The lady smiled and answered, "Well, I'm definitely sure we have" and just like magic the droplets of water stopped falling and it was slowly becoming brighter. "Our paths have crossed more than a hundred time, but you don't seem to remember me. Am I that unmemorable?" It was difficult to decipher if what she said was true. It seemed like half a joke and the other half somewhat serious and hurt. He was about to answer and clarify himself, but the lady stopped him from doing so. "There's no need to explain. I totally understand. Maybe some day if we are meant to be." The lady smiled, "I didn't think we'd meet again." Those were her last words before walking away to wherever she was meant to go. 

The pavement was still kind of wet. She walked the other way, and if he would have followed he didn't even know what he would have done. Instead, he went to the opposite direction - his usual way. As he walked, he stepped on small puddles of water that formed on the sidewalk. He kept on thinking about his encounter with the lady and as much as he tried to remember, her face didn't ring a bell. What astonished him though, was her voice. It sounded familiar but it stops there. He can't remember anything else. These were his thoughts as he went home. 

The next day, his old friend and colleague visited him and was surprised to see him sitting on his usual chair. It wasn't surprising to see him sitting on his usual chair casually thinking, wondering or even dreaming. What surprised him are the scattered notebooks on the floor and every flat surface you can place a piece of paper on. He looked at the shelves where it once was. He has never seen those shelves empty in nearly a decade. "What happened?" he asked. There was no reply. He never saw him this disoriented and troubled. "I'll try to help you" he said as he crouched down to the floor and gathered some pieces of paper. Each paper had a different date and a different location. Some of them were travels he had on Europe, some were in Africa. These on the floor he knew were only a small portion. He's been almost everywhere around the world. "What are you doing here?" he finally spoke. He wasn't looking at him, but at the papers on his hands. "Well, our old school contacted everyone while you were abroad. They dug up the time capsule and decided to return to everyone the pieces of paper that they wrote. The school is being demolished a new building will replace it. They removed the time capsule due to some conflicts with the new building." he stood up and put all the papers and some notebooks he picked from the floor and placed it on the table nearest to him. "I got your paper and offered to give it to you once you got back. It flew out of mind and I just remembered last week." he held out a small envelope which contained the piece of paper he wrote years ago.

He stood up from his chair and reached out to take it. He read the five words he wrote once and proceeded to cleaning up the mess he made. While he was cleaning up and taking papers and notebooks he finally said, "For the longest time, I thought that I was blessed to remember half of what I know." he stood up and walked over to a table at the corner of the room, "I could remember my way going home, the bus to ride to get to school, some other things that are often shrugged off by other people because it's the basic things people usually remember." He placed the papers including what he wrote for the time capsule on the table then said, "I write to remember. I don't write for people's entertainment." He looked at the carpeted floor with a heavy heart and then some papers on the table, "It hurts me to read what I cannot remember." He looked at him with sad eyes and said, "Cherish the moments you have with the people you love, because it is not impossible to forget memories. No matter how happy or how sad you were, there will always be the possibility of forgetting." 

His friend looked at him and couldn't help but to feel bad for him. He lowered his head and as he did, he saw the papers he placed on the table. The same papers he's been looking at the entire time. His eyes scanned the papers and it seemed as if all the papers were talking about a lady. He would have thought he met with several ladies each time he went abroad if it weren't for the same name repeated on each paper. "Now, I remember why I swore to myself I would never touch a single paper on that shelf." he sighed, "It's true then, what I wrote on the piece of paper. Everything happens for a reason."