Alex emerged from the house and settled into the backseat, his eyes clouded with dark and distant thoughts. He had confirmed Mr. Johnson's suspicions on the phone and then revealed Emily's memory loss. After a long silence, just as Mr. Johnson was about to hang up, Alex had insisted on visiting to talk in person. Now, here he was, halfway across the world, standing in front of Mr. Johnson's house in Melbourne. The entire morning had been spent in deep conversations inside.
In March, Melbourne was a harmonious blend of lingering summer warmth and the crispness of approaching autumn. The sky stretched out in a pale blue, scattered with fluffy white clouds. Leaves on the trees were beginning to turn shades of gold and crimson, while a gentle breeze carried the scent of eucalyptus and freshly cut grass. The bright and clear morning saw the sun casting a soft, warm glow over the serene suburban streets.
