Bloody footprints printed on the dirty brick pathway as I rushed in the direction of where Oliver had disappeared. Every step I took sent waves of pain up my entire body- how long had I been running? My chest was heaving for breath, and I dodged the flames as they threatened to come close to me. I am not supposed to be here.

Where was I even running to? The playground? Oliver’s garden? I couldn’t think straight with all this chaos building around me. Everything in sight was in shambles: buildings, shops, the road…all engulfed in tall, dancing flames. Burnt corpses of locals were all over the ground, being stepped on by runny people or being run over by escaping cars. Smoke blanketed the entire sky, making it impossible to know whether it was night or day. Sirens wailed, people were shouting at the top of their lungs, and nothing was visible except the fire.

Through all that turmoil, Oliver’s broken toy airplane was visible right before me.

The sight of its pieces made me slowly halt. The next thing I knew, I was on my bruised knees, hugging the pieces as sparks flew around me, Oliver was here. He cannot leave, not like this.

It took a long time for his disappearance to sink into in my mind. I don’t remember how long I sat there, listening to fire crackling, until the fire department carried me away. Tears streamed down my face, and I felt my body heating up like I had a high fever. There were so many things on my mind, yet it felt blank. I was a lost child, clutching a broken toy, desperately hoping for Oliver to magically appear from behind. I wanted him to assure me or mock me for believing his prank.

***

It’s been over a decade. I am 22 years old and currently learning architecture at my university. As a part-time job, I am Uncle Lawson’s assistant in his antique store. It is  an easy job, and I get paid fairly. Everything seems  to be settled.

I first joined in hopes of re- storing Oliver’s broken airplane. I had thrown everything that I had of him: his toys, his books, his drawings, his pictures. Of course, it had not been easy, considering that he would at least want me not to forget him entirely. He, of course, did not know that no matter how many memories I tried to burn of him, I would always remember him. His presence was strangely stuck in my mind even after all these years. Even if the airplane vanished someday, I would still remember him.

Uncle Lawson, after hearing about Oliver, decided to showcase the airplane. It was incomplete due to the absence of some pieces I lost over the years, but it still looked artistic.

The day before my graduation, I decide to take a night shift to help my other colleagues. It is peaceful in the antique store. Everything glistens in the ambient lights, giving the store a new look. Somewhere in the background, an old radio was playing some 90’s music that I do not know the name of. The essence of rich mahogany lingered in the chill atmosphere, including a hint of copper.

As I clean the windows, I hear the bell of the entrance door chime. A student enters, marveling at the sight of the antique shop. It seems to be his first time here. Freckles decorates the bridge of his nose, his brown hair wind-swept… he looks oddly familiar, though I cannot recall that I have ever seen him at my university.

After some time, I notice that the student is staring at Oliver’s airplane. It has been a while since he has stood there so I ask him if he needs anything.

He breaks his gaze from the airplane and then at me. “Oh, I’m sorry! I don’t need anything- I just wanted to see, that’s all.”

“Ah.” I get that comment a lot. “Well, I hope you like it here. If you need anything, do let me know.”

“Thank you. Also, quick question: is this for sale?”

I look at the airplane. “I’m afraid not. But there are better models, far more antique and completed- this one’s missing a few pieces. I could show you around if you like.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “I’m aware of the missing pieces. The thing is, I used to have a similar model of this plane in my childhood. I lost it in the fire.”

I blink. Fire. Childhood. Airplane. “What?”

“Have you read the newspaper today?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, tomorrow marks the ten-year anniversary of the ‘incident’ of this city. Ten years ago-”

“There was a fire.”

He clapped his hands. “Yes! I was there when that happened, you see. And I was running with this similar toy airplane, and it fell on the ground. I couldn’t grab it on time so for some reason, I just took some pieces and ran away. I still have it.” His eyes brightened. “Hey- maybe I should bring them here! Maybe those pieces can fit-?”

“Oliver?”