It Wasn't Possible

The city had changed. Its streets no longer bore the same names, and in place of the café where they had once sat, there now stood a pale, translucent glass-walled office building. The man no longer had the strength to walk quickly, but he did not hurry. Step by step, it was as if every corner and shadow held a memory of what once had been.

He remembered the feeling that had pierced his young mind. A gaze that had lingered just a moment longer than friendship should allow. A closeness that he had never been granted, a boundary that had held firm. They had been young then, and youth does not always understand what the heart is trying to say.

Time had passed. Life had passed. And now, as his body, too, had begun to give in, he returned once more to the moments that had remained unlived.

Then he saw him.

Seated on a bench at the metro station, aged but recognizable. A rough beard glowing silver beneath the fluorescent light. The same posture, the same presence, the same way of brushing his hair aside. The man stepped closer, slowly, as if afraid of breaking something fragile and precious.

"Excuse me," the man said in a low, quiet voice, no longer as clear as it had been in his youth. "Do we know each other?"

The figure turned toward him. He looked for a moment, a lingering shadow from the past. Perhaps something delicate flickered in his mind as well-some feeling, some memory...

Then a smile briefly crossed his face before vanishing. He shook his head.

"No, I don't think so."

The man nodded slowly and started to walk away. He wasn't sure anymore either. Time had been relentless, and even memories no longer worked the way they once had.

Still, something made him glance back. The bench was empty; the figure had already stepped onto the train. The doors closed.

His gaze wandered around the station. Across from him, two boys sat side by side, laughing softly. They spoke in hushed tones, one smiling shyly, the other lowering his gaze.

Then a memory surfaced in the man's mind. His expression brightened, but it seemed to trouble him.

That was when he understood.

For a moment, it had all been possible. He had been in love. The weight of memories had followed him for decades. Until they were all he had left.

But now, far too late, he knew.

The metro lights stretched into long lines above the tracks. The man stepped forward, toward the edge of the platform.

A beam of light streamed down from the skylight, like the first ray of morning. The metro jolted forward. The man felt, for the last time. The light was translucent and fragile.

A breath of wind swept through as the train rushed into the tunnel. Fine dust lifted into the air. It settled. The man was no longer there.