Shadows of Memory

The day felt colder than usual, though the sun peeked weakly through the gray haze of the London skyline. Adrian Voss walked along the bustling streets toward his office, but his mind was far from the city's noise. The image from the anonymous email replayed in his thoughts — the blurred figure standing in the corner, and the chilling word stamped below:

REMEMBER.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone wasn’t just watching him — they were leading him. Each piece of the puzzle wasn’t just falling into place, it was being placed — deliberately, like a breadcrumb trail meant only for him.

Inside his office, the blinds were drawn halfway, leaving slants of pale light on the floor. The usual scent of coffee, paper, and dust lingered in the air. Nathan looked up from his desk as Adrian entered.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” Nathan remarked.

“I didn’t,” Adrian said quietly, removing his scarf and placing his briefcase beside the chair. “Where are the files I asked for?”

Nathan handed over a stack of documents — the digitized cold case from six years ago and the preliminary report from the recent murder.

Adrian flipped through them slowly, his eyes sharp and focused. Even in exhaustion, his mind moved quickly — scanning for overlaps, contradictions, the smallest fragments that could reveal a truth.

Then he stopped.

In the old case file, scribbled in a faded witness statement, was the name of a café in Shoreditch. He stared at it.

Not because of its importance to the case — but because it stirred something else. A faint feeling. An image. A memory he couldn’t fully place.

Without another word, Adrian stood.

“I’m going out,” he said.

“Where to?” Nathan asked.

“To remember,” Adrian replied. He didn’t look back.

The café still existed — tucked between a used bookstore and a flower shop, its blue exterior faded but familiar. The crooked sign above the door creaked in the breeze.

Adrian stepped inside. A soft bell rang overhead.

The warmth of cinnamon, ground coffee, and something nostalgic filled the air. Time hadn’t touched the place much. Wooden booths. Cream walls. The same vintage jazz playing from an old radio in the corner.

He walked slowly toward the back — to a booth by the window.

And then it happened.

Another vision. But this one came softly — like déjà vu slipping in sideways.

The light around him dimmed. The booth flickered. And for a breath of a moment, he saw her — a girl sitting across from him. Her face was hazy, her voice clearer.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

Adrian froze.

The booth was empty again.

His breath caught in his throat. The question echoed in his head.

He didn’t know her. But those words cracked open something inside him. A strange ache. A deep unease.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his notepad, scribbling the sentence down before it faded from his mind.

His phone buzzed.

Another message.

No sender. No subject.

Just a single line:

“You were there that night. You just chose to forget.”

Adrian stared at the screen.