Chapter 17
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After completely leaving my past environment behind, I felt much lighter both physically and mentally.
Life in the countryside was slow–paced and peaceful. I began growing flowers and keeping an observation journal.
Gradually, I recorded everything I saw and heard in my diary, and this observation journal slowly became my personal record.
On every page, I repeatedly reminded myself never to leave this place.
However, unexpectedly, when I woke up the following month, I didn’t seem to have completely lost my memory.
I remembered that I had lived here, but I forgot the reason why.
Everything before me seemed so unfamiliar.
An unfamiliar house, an unfamiliar village, and that woman standing at the door calling me for breakfast.
“Amelia, what’s wrong?” she asked with concern.
I stared at her for a long time before slowly answering, “I’m fine, Carine.”
Carine seemed to sense something. She glanced at the calendar
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and suddenly hugged me excitedly: “Oh my God, Amelia, you still remember me!”
I smiled and hugged her back: “Of course I remember.”
While sitting at the dining table leisurely enjoying breakfast, Carine’s expression seemed somewhat restrained.
I looked at her with confusion: “Did something happen?”
Carine lowered her head and said, “Actually, my son came back, and he brought his wife with him.”
I understood immediately and smiled at her: “How long are they planning to stay?”
Carine said quietly, “At least a week.”
I said cheerfully, “That’s perfect! I was just thinking about spending some time in the city, but I was worried about leaving you alone. I was wondering how to bring it up.”
Carine hugged me tightly: “Amelia, you’re such a sweet girl. If this house wasn’t my son’s, I would never ask you to leave so they could move in.”
Carine was already in her fifties. This was her son’s house, and he rarely came back. Usually, only she lived here alone.
With Christmas approaching, it was natural for families to
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reunite.
The next day, I left that place.
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To make up for the inconvenience, Carine booked a hotel for me and personally drove me to downtown Stockholm.
On Christmas Eve, most people were home busy preparing for the holidays.
Although downtown was decorated with lights, the streets weren’t particularly busy.
I walked through the thick snow, wandering aimlessly around the city. I sat in a church for a while, then spent half the day at the photography museum in the city center.
By evening, I was still walking aimlessly through the streets.
Countless hurried people brushed past me.
They all seemed to have somewhere to go, while I wandered alone.
Gradually, I noticed many people carrying identical shopping bags.
Looking up, I realized I had arrived at a large supermarket.
I watched the steady stream of people going in and out of the
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supermarket entrance, feeling somewhat drawn in.
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Although I didn’t need to buy anything, I still grabbed an empty shopping cart and went inside.
This was a warehouse store where all products came in bulk packaging.
As I stood in front of the shelves hesitating whether to buy a pack of cookies, a mother with her child stopped beside me.
The mother crouched down to grab some cookies, and her child, noticing my empty shopping cart, took out a box of chocolate candies from his cart and handed it to me.
He said, “If you really don’t know what to buy, I recommend these. They’re really good.”
I smiled slightly: “Thank you.”
The chocolate candies were the only item sold individually, seemingly used as impulse purchases.
Finally, I pushed a shopping cart containing only chocolate candies to the bakery section.
Looking at the impressive display of cakes, I couldn’t help but swallow hungrily.
Unfortunately, these cakes were enormous. If I bought one, it
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would last me at least half a month.
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Just as I was about to give up and leave, a gentle male voice came from above: “Excuse me, miss, are you also looking to buy a cake?”
I froze for a moment.
Soon, that voice spoke again: “This cake looks like way too much. Would you mind splitting one with me? Of course, I can pay extra.”
I slowly looked up at the man who was speaking.
He wore a light–colored wool coat with a brown scarf around his neck, radiating warmth.
At that moment, he was holding the very cake I had just been eyeing, looking perplexed: “Sorry, I assumed you were
American.”
After saying that, he repeated it in Swedish.
I smiled and responded in English: “We can split one.”
His eyes lit up with delight, looking genuinely happy as he immediately picked up the cake: “It’s so great to meet a fellow American here. You know, shopping here really isn’t easy—everything comes in huge portions. And all the other supermarkets are closed…”
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I nodded as I listened to his chatter: “Well, this is a warehouse store after all.”
I selected a few more items, with him trailing behind me.
He pushed his shopping cart, following me and asking: “Do you live here?”
I shook my head: “I’m just here as a tourist.”
He smiled: “So how many museums have you hit?”
I replied: “Including today, I think I’ve been to four.”
He looked at me with amazement: “You’ve got serious stamina.”
At checkout, I paid him my share, and after we divided up our purchases, we said goodbye.
However, that evening I ran into him again at my hotel room
loor.
He stood in front of the door directly across from mine and waved: “What a coincidence! You’re staying here too?”
I nodded: “Yeah, what a coincidence.”
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