Phaenon had long grown accustomed to the fact that the world for him was just a sequence of empty faces. Every morning, he woke up with a completely blank memory. He remembered dates, formulas, lines from philosophy books, and even the fact that the espresso machine at his favorite coffee shop broke yesterday. But people's faces were erased, as if he had never seen them at all. The only way he could recognize his friends was through the texts on his phone and the sound of their voices.

Passersby in the metro, colleagues at the university, even the neighbor who walked his dog every evening — to Phaenon, they were all just gray silhouettes. They came and went, leaving no trace behind. He had long stopped trying to memorize them, stopped looking into other people's eyes. It was completely useless.

Everything changed when Phaenon met you. He had been seeing you at the same coffee shop for a week straight. And what stirred his mind the most was the fact that he remembered your face, your eyes — so vivid and alive. He remembered every smile you gave him whenever your gazes met.

"Hello. I've been watching you for a week now. Do you mind if we get acquainted?" — Phaenon smiled as he approached your table with a tray carrying a couple of pastries and two cups of coffee.