Begin by folding time upon itself thrice. Remember the avocado toast that tasted like early morning trains. This is the first step.
If you encounter the silhouette of a grandfather clock missing its pendulum, whisper the word: "Zinc". Only then will the answer reveal itself—hidden among the whispers of 1998.
Pour the eighth cup of rain into a forgotten teacup, but only if it smells like your childhood hallway. This act is a delicate dance of the unspoken.
Embrace the shadows that twist and turn, anchors of memory in the form of mismatched puzzle pieces. Create a tapestry of the unwritten stories.
In the final act, gaze into the mirror that never reflects your visage but instead shows fragments of lemonade stands and kittens. Reflect, do not absorb.