If wholly bloomed cherry blossoms could ignore gravity and grass was this green on this side of the hill then maybe it was a reality. The wooden shack had two open walkways for wind to run through and out, whistling as it came home from work on the sea. The tired gusts filled up all the silence as if to overflow a pot before more could be added.<br/><br/>The trees cautiously shed their flowers but while a figure waited for them to flutter and sink they instead drifted towards the blanketing sunset. They, the figure, wondered what need a tree would have to float like those flowers. A tree was grounded and rightfully happy with it. The soil, enriched over the years, must have easily bore such flora. Verdure that so wished to see what was beyond the small garden that it decided to ignore what the earth commanded. The figure too wished to explore. What wildflowers grew on the outskirts? What color was the briny deep here? They imagined that if they went up those flagstone stairs and peeked over the fence they would be able to smell the salt. They sat carefully in the center of the shack, and watched from their position as a flower from the top of the tree broke from its branch. Unlike the other blossoms, the floret wilted and frighteningly sank towards the grass. The tree seemed to sigh, its trunk almost bending as if wishing it could pick up the fluttering cherry blossom.<br/><br/>The second the flower embraced the ground below, it crackled and started to burn. Its ashes rose towards the sky. The figure watched as the whole tree slowly scorched and began burning. The sweet smell still hung in the air as cinders and ashes climbed towards the clouds. The blaze soon started to blur out the garden from the figure’s vision. Light. Bright white lights.<br/><br/><br/>They gasped like they had forgotten how to breathe up until that moment. Air filled their lungs and they were soon made painfully aware of the mask on their face and their dry, sore throat. The bed they laid in shallowly creaked as— the somebody, they supposed— sat up. Once there was no immediate indication of pain, it was easier to breathe. There was no one else in the room, they noticed.<br/><br/>Who had put them here? Where were they?<br/><br/>The somebody put their hands on their face, eyes shut in concentration. They felt something missing, they knew so much but couldn’t think of where they had learned it. The feeling was disorienting to say the least. They felt dissociated with the realization that they couldn’t remember what to call themself. Curly, messy locks of hair tickled their fingertips, prompting a hand to run through it. The somebody pulled at a strand of hair until it was in their view. It was light brown, dusty with cool undertones. They had brown skin that could just be mistaken for tanned, but brown nonetheless.<br/><br/>The somebody found humor in exploring themself. It didn’t matter how hard they concentrated because they couldn’t remember anything. They supposed it wasn’t something to fuss about, the only place to go was forward since backwards didn’t exist anymore. The somebody found a strange comfort in that.<br/><br/>Around them were several other beds. They were unfortunately empty, but the sheets were messy— hanging off the side of the mattress or crumpled up at the end. The somebody let that give them hope that they weren’t alone. Nearby was a door that curiously hung open. The somebody made use of their legs and carefully crawled out of bed. They tested weight on both legs before making their way to the door. A less headache-inducing hallway expanded beyond the exit. After looking in both directions the now wanderer started calmly down the hallway.<br/><br/>The end of the corridor prompted two options: a turn to the left continued the hallway or in front of the wanderer was a room with some tables. Soft blue light enticed their curiosity as the somebody drifted forward in a trance. After some awed exploring they faced what looked like a window. A light sheer certain covered whatever was on the other side.<br/><br/>The wanderer turned from the window, denying the longing to see the other side.