Alastrina knew his voice. She knew it as if it were her own. The only problem was that she could not remember where she knew it from. It was only a vauge thought in her mind that she should be remembering who he was. Every night she came to the club, and every night she listened to him sing. And every night he slipped away before she could get a glimpse of him.
It had been three weeks now. Three frustrating weeks of trying to remember something that she didn't even know she was supposed to know. Every night it seemed, when she listened to him sing, there was a niggling little thought in the back of her mind, begging to be remembered. Alastrina grasped at it, but it was like trying to hold mist, insubstantial and fleeting.
Alastrina sat in her usual spot now, closer to the stage than when she had started coming to the club, but still not close enough to see him, only his smile, and his bright eyes.
The lights dimmed and the curtain moved aside. Alastrina sat up straight as he began a beautiful song.
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes
A scene flashed in her mind. A stormy day in February, standing in the rain. Then it was gone.
"The eye never forgets what the heart has seen." She muttered to herself. She didn't bother to try to get a better look at him this time. "I just wish I could remember."
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