The man with no past

After his mother's death, Alexander felt ground beneath him crack and crumble. His mother had been his world, the one person who had loved him unconditionally. He had a father, but his presence was no more important to him. With a heavy heart and only a few belongings, he left in the dead of night. The streets were cold, unforgiving, and unfamiliar, but they felt less suffocating than the house he had once called home. His father had not even noticed his absence by morning; the man was too lost in his own world of cards.

For weeks, wandered from town to town surviving on the scraps of food, seeking shelter wherever he could. He kept his head down, always moving, always avoiding any attention. He had no name, no identity. He tried to remember, who he was, but the loss of his mother had left him fragmented. Sometimes, he would find a moment of solace by the side of road, watching strangers pass by, wishing he could be someone else—with the purpose, a family, a name that meant something.

But every time someone asked him where he was from or who he was, his mind would go blank. He had no answer.

"Why this world is so cruel, I am just...ahh" voice trembled.