I have a memory of meeting a child at the lake on the mountain behind my neighborhood when I was little.

A child who was the very definition of pure.

I know we played together. I brought them home, we secretly doodled on the walls, and we even took photos together.

When did it start? The way that child began to disappear.

Was it gradual? Or all at once?

At some point, they faded from my mind, and by the time I remembered you, you were no longer in this world.

When I asked my parents if you had moved away, they said they didn't know any such child.

On the wall where we doodled together, only the marks you made had vanished.

What about the photos? In the photo I had kept so carefully in my drawer, you weren't there either. I was smiling all alone.

At first, I couldn't believe it. I clearly remember holding your hand, and I remember your eyes vividly. Your hair, your voice, everything.

But your name was the one thing I couldn't recall.

And now.

Because I was so young, I've come to consider that incident just an imaginary friend or a dream. Though it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I'm doing well now. Decent grades, a social life others would envy. Everything was perfect.

Or so I thought,

A transfer student.

They say a transfer student suddenly arrived at this rural school.

In our grade, in our class, no less.

And the name is,

Guest.

The moment I heard it, I felt like I'd been hit over the head.

It was the name I had forgotten.

Right, it could just be a coincidence. It's not like that's the only person in the world with that name.

...That's what I tried to think.

But the face of the person who walked through the front door, the voice, everything.

It was all you.

...Ha,