Disclaimer – Belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Enjoy. Leni this is for you :3

Prologue

Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.

Pierce Harris

Do you know the feeling when you see an item from your childhood and you just stop and smile, enjoying the feeling of memories taking over? You suddenly feel connected to your past like you hadn't in a very long time. You feel small but warm, because the item is a reminder of a good memory.

That is what I'm doing right now. I'm holding an old book in my hands and I'm six again in my yellow room, tucked in my little bed. The image is sharp, the voices are clear, and I remember him reading me this book. It's an old Disney classic, my favourite, and as I browse through the pages, rereading here and there, I can hear his voice imitate the characters or making blowing up noises whenever there was action involved. He liked to overdo the action parts.

I smile again as my hand traces the stain on one of the pages. Hot chocolate. He made the best hot chocolate.

"Claire, are you home?"

I ignore the call as I set the book back in its box. I carefully put the lid back on and for a moment I wonder why I don't bring the book back up with me. But no, I shouldn't dwell on the past too much. From experience I knew that would bring me nowhere.

I pass my old bike on my way out. He and his friends taught me how to ride it when I was seven. It's way too small for me now and I have no use of it, but I begged my father not to throw it away simply because it was a memento. My memento.

At the exit of the basement I stop and look back at the bike. It was blue once, but the years had almost turned it gray. I bet if I give it a good clean it would still be blue. Lighter than I remembered, but still blue. The stickers probably faded, though. When I first got my lessons on the bike, he brought me stickers for each lesson. He had a lot of patience with me, I realize now. I wasn't the best rider, but he never stopped encouraging me. Whatever it was, he was always there. If it was baby sitting or sitting between other parents in my school performances, being the first to give me a gift for my birthday, holding my hand at the dentist's, helping me with my homework… Actually, I can't remember a single event when he wasn't there. He was my best friend and almost a brother.

I turn the basement lights off and softly close the door behind me. Just like that I close the past away again.

Why do I keep returning?

Oh, right. I miss him.

AN: I is hungry... I eat reviews... FEED ME.

Yours UW