S a m

"And I promised myself I wouldn't let you complete me." - Is There Somewhere, Halsey

I walk in and I see you, standing in the corner, eyes opened in shock.

I want to say hello.

I want to say that I'm happy to see you again.

But I can't get those words out of my mouth.

I can't say hello.

I can't say that I'm happy to see you again.

I can't drag you into my world.

Not this time.

Not again.

I'm sorry.

*

With my backpack slung across one shoulder, I push open the shop door, the bells above the door jingling as I enter. It's just another typical day at work or, in other words, another typical summer's day.

It's just another day that will pass with you wallowing in your sorrows and despair.

"Mr Jones, I'm here," I call out the moment I step into his shop.

I suddenly find myself locking eyes with a very familiar girl. She is wearing her hair down now, but her stormy blue eyes are still there, all so familiar. She's standing beside a tall, medium built guy. Who is that? Her boyfriend?

How many times must you be reminded of the mistakes you made?

"It's you," I say as calmly as I can but, in reality, I can feel my hands shaking.

She looks at me like I am just some crazy person who has mistaken her for someone else but, at the same time, I spot the recognition in her eyes.

She knows who I am.

Why do I feel so relieved?

Stop yourself from feeling, Sam.

Haven't you forgotten the last time you got close to a girl?

I gulp, taking a step forward. I can feel her eyes on me and I stand a little straighter, trying to add a little more confidence in every step I take. I manage to walk to the back of the shop without caving in. I open the door to the room, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Sam! Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" Mr Jones asks, concerned, looking up from the newspaper he is reading. "You're so pale. Are you unwell?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm perfectly fine," I mutter, avoiding eye contact with my boss.

I place my bag on the chair in the left corner of the room as Mr Jones says," I'd like you to clean the shelf with all the old jewellery boxes and holders. A customer just called in yesterday saying that she wants to drop in and have a look at those."

I nod. "Not a problem."

I turn to face the door and take a deep breath of air before going into the shop once again.

Anyway, why isn't Mr Jones out there? It's kind of odd that he isn't at the register when there are customers in the shop. Does he know them?

They're still there, in the shop, but they are not together anymore. The boy is browsing the books and the girl is admiring the jewellery.

She's there. She's where I need to be. How can I clean the shelf if she is there?

I can feel my knees trembling and my heart beating ferociously in my chest. Why do I feel so nervous around her? I barely even know her. We've only met once before. Yet, why do I feel like I've known her my whole life?

She reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on who.

You know exactly who she reminds you of.

You're just too afraid to admit it.

My hands are shaking ever so slightly as I take one trembling step after another to the jewellery shelf.

"Hi," I say as I reach, my eyes darting all around the room, not wanting to seem too interested.

I pick up the necklaces that are scattered all over the shelf and use my arm to hang them to prevent them from being too tangled. I place all the necklaces back to their original places in the right categories: the pearls with the pearls, the gems with the gems, the gold with the gold, and so on and so forth.

"They're very pretty," she replies, watching me work.

She's rubbing her hands nervously, constantly shifting her weight from one leg to another.

"Who's your friend?" I ask, nodding in his direction as I continue sorting out all the jewellery.

She shrugs. "I don't really know him. We just met this morning."

My shoulders relax at her answer. I never even realised they were tensed in the first place.

"Cool. Do you like him?" I blurt.

"I mean, is he nice?" I try to correct, slowly but surely starting to panic. "I mean-"

She laughs, as if what I had just said was all just a joke. "I know what you mean." She pauses. "He's nice, I guess. I don't really know him yet so it's still too early to say."

I nod, opening my mouth to say something but soon decided against it. I don't want to embarrass myself again. It's not like I have anything better to say.

Or do you?

"Do you like working here?" she asks, her voice trembling just a little.

"I do, actually," I reply, using all my willpower not to look her in the eyes. "All the items in this shop have a story behind them, and I find that very fascinating. They're all so old and some are chipped or even broken and yet, they're still standing, functioning, as gorgeous as ever."

You're blabbering again, Sam.

Stop it, Sam.

She's bored. She doesn't want to listen to your nonsense.

"I agree," she answers. "What's your favourite item in this shop?"

I freeze, my breath quickly becoming shallower and shallower. My favourite item in this shop? I know exactly what it is. But I'm not sure if I am ready to share that story.

And why is that?

Who's fault is that?

Tell. Her.

"I'll show you," I force myself to say.

I put down the bracelets I am carrying and lead her to the back of the shop with all the miscellaneous items. I bend down and look through the stacks and stacks of items in the bottom rows of the shelf. When I find it, I grab it and hold it securely in my hand and stand up. She holds out the palm of her right hand and I drop it into her hand.

"A key?" she asks, curiosity eminent in her voice, dissipating the nervousness I thought I heard.

Maybe I'm misinterpreted.

Or maybe you thought she was nervous simply because you are.

"Why do you like it?"

For some reason, I feel like telling this girl everything. I feel like sharing a piece of my soul with her. I can't even tell the story of my favourite item to my best friend and yet, I'm telling a complete stranger.

"It's a long story," I reply, feeling eager to tell it, but knowing I shouldn't.

I can't let myself seem vulnerable ever again. It's a weakness, and I can't let it drag me down ever again, and anyone else along the way.

Are you sure you aren't just giving yourself an excuse?

"I have time," she says calmly.

"Alright then." I take a deep breath of air in an attempt to clear my mind before launching into the beginning of a story I wish I could change.

*

"Sam, Sam! Look what I found!"

"What is it?" I asked, running up to my friend across the yard and onto my neighbour's.

"Shh. I can't tell you here. I think it's a secret."

I nodded my head enthusiastically, curious to know what my best friend in the whole world had found. "Okay!"

She led me through the back door into her house and I followed her from behind. We went up to the attic and closed the door before sitting down on the floor.

"So what did you find?"

"This," she replies, holding up an old key attached to a string.

"What's that?"

"A key, you goofball," she said, chuckling.

"What does it open?"

"Well, that's for us to find out." She paused. "I have an idea. How about we go on an adventure to find out what this door unlocks?"

"Yes! That would be fun."

"Let's go."

We raced through the house and out to the yard once again, both of us panting by the time we reached there.

"Where to first?" I asked between breaths.

"Why, my backyard, of course!"

We ran to the back of the house, the key dangling from her neck, her hair flowing gracefully behind her. We came to a halt just outside the shed and she removed the key from her neck. We both looked at the keyhole intently, as if that would magically enable the key to fit into the keyhole.

She raised her hand and inserted the key into the keyhole. We held our breaths as she turned the key. We heard a clicking sound as she turned the key.

"Did it open?" I asked.

"Go ahead. Try."

I pushed open the door and sure enough, it opened.

"Wow. I can't believe we did it," she said, sounding awestruck.

"That was a rather short adventure though, wasn't it? It wasn't worth getting excited over."

She shook her head. "Every adventure is worth getting excited over, my dear Sam. But don't worry, we will go on the adventure of our lives one day, when we're much older," she replied, beaming in delight.

I smiled back, starting to feel excited, perhaps even as excited as her. "I'd like that."

*

"That is such a cute story," the girl comments, smiling. "And it wasn't that long."

I shrug. "It seems long to me. Or maybe it's because I was telling it."

"Maybe."

"So did you two managed to go on the adventure of your lives?" she asks, chuckling.

"Unfortunately, no," I reply, trying my best to keep the smile plastered on my face.

And why is that, Sam?

Why haven't the two of you gone on the adventure you have been planning almost all your life?

And who's fault is that?

"I'm sure you will. Someday," she says, trying to sound reassuring.

I shrug once again. "Maybe."

"You will."

"I—"

"It's time to go," her companion says, placing a hand on her shoulder from behind to get her attention.

She turns around and nods. "Okay. Give me a few moments."

He nods. "I'll meet you outside."

He leaves, the bells echoing throughout the room as he exits through the door.

"I'll see you around?" she asks, sounding hopeful, but at the same time, reserved, like she's hiding something.

"Maybe. Maybe if you decide to watch the sunset with me again." I'm blabbering again. I am not sure why I keep doing that today, especially around her. "I mean, only if you want.

She laughs, but I can hear that she forced it. To seem like a good listener perhaps?

You're so foolish, Sam.

Haven't you heard of thinking before you say something?

You have a brain, Sam.

Use it.

"Maybe," she replies, smirking.

"Are you mocking me?" I ask, feigning being hurt.

She just laughs.

"Do you want me to walk you to the door?"

"Sure, why not?"

We both turn towards the direction of the exit, navigating through the shelves and stacks of random items and furniture to get there. I steal a glance at the girl as we walk. She's staring at her feet, her shoulders tensed, her eyes distant and seeming like they're a world away. Perhaps she's just lost in her thoughts. But then, why does she look so sad? Especially when she thinks no one is looking.

I avert my attention away from her, not wanting her to catch me staring. When we reach the front door, we turn to face each other again, perhaps even for the last time ever.

"Thank you for that story," she says, smiling. But the smile doesn't reach her eyes.

"My pleasure."

"I'll see you around, I guess?"

"Sure."

She pushes the door open. "I never caught your name," she says, looking back to face me again.

"It's Sam."

"Thank you, Sam."

And with that, she exits the shop, the door closing behind her after she lets go, and walks towards her friend.

"Wait, what's your name?" I ask, but I'm too late.

She's already gone.

And I am left alone in a shop full of antiques and the sound of the chiming of bells to keep me company.

[A/N: So, who do you think that girl in the flashback is? And do you like their cute little conversation? Hope you enjoyed it C:]