Only the echo of a girl in white, walking toward me through a field that didn’t exist, asking to be remembered in a language I never learned.
But I didn’t dream the rest. That night, I wrote down what I thought she had said. Remember. The next morning, a single sunburned dandelion lay on my windowsill, though all my windows were shut. And for the rest of that silent summer, I heard no birds. No lawnmowers. No distant trains.
The video was grainy, shot on what looked like a handheld camcorder. A field of tall grass, swaying without wind. Then, a girl appeared at the edge of the frame, wearing a white dress that seemed too bright for the muted landscape. She didn’t speak. She just walked toward the camera, her lips moving slightly, forming words that the silence swallowed. silent summer 2013 ok.ru
I still check ok.ru sometimes. Just in case.
The video ended.
I refreshed the page. The video was gone. The ok.ru profile now showed "User deleted." I checked my browser history—nothing. As if I had dreamed it.
She stopped directly in front of the lens. For a long moment, she looked past the camera—looked at me , I could have sworn. Then she raised a hand and pressed it flat against the screen, as if touching glass. I saw her mouth form two syllables. Pomni. Remember. Only the echo of a girl in white,
I clicked.
I turned up my laptop’s volume. Nothing. No crickets, no footsteps, no breathing. Just the hum of my own refrigerator three rooms away. Remember