The night was quiet.
Stars filled the sky like scattered memories, far away but beautiful. They didn't speak, but it felt like they were watching.
He opened his eyes.
Cold grass touched his skin. The air was still. Above him stood a single tree, its wide branches resting under the stars.
He didn't know how he got there.
He didn't know who he was.
No name came to mind. No memories. No place to return to.
Just the stars, the grass, and the silence.
Then, from a leaf above, one drop of water fell.
It touched his cheek.
And he breathed.
That small touch pulled him awake. As if the world itself had gently reminded him: you are still alive.
He sat up slowly. The sky stretched above him, so wide, so endless. He looked at his hands. They didn't tell him anything. They were just hands. His clothes were plain. There was nothing on him. No sign of the life he had before.
If there ever was one.
He stood.
There was no road in front of him.
No voice calling his name.
But somehow… he felt like he had to move. Not because someone told him to. Not because he had a goal.
But because something inside him quietly wanted to keep going.
Even if he didn't know who he was…
He would walk.
To find answers.
To find a name.
To find himself.
Behind him, the tree stood quietly, like a silent guardian. The droplet was gone now, as if it had never fallen at all.
But its touch remained.
And as he took his first step forward, the stars above seemed to shine a little brighter.