A little thing called memory

I closed the door to my apartment and began walking towards the bar. The local bar was usually only a couple of hundred feet away from my apartment.

For some reason, this time it took me almost an hour before I found myself inside the doors to my favorite place.

I tried to recollect what had happened but there was nothing. I couldn’t remember doing anything other than walking here.

Why did it take me an hour?

I sat down by one of the tables, beer in hand. A beer that I hadn’t been able to pay for because I had forgotten my wallet had home.

I tried to remember the last hour, what had I done? There was nothing.

I tried recalling the entire time since I closed the door to my apartment.

I remembered that I closed my door and that I was walking down the street towards the bar.

Somewhere along the walk, I noticed that I had forgotten my wallet. The wallet that I still didn’t have.

I turned around and headed back towards my home.

That was all I could come up with. Everything after that was blacked out.

I sat for another while, drinking my beer and trying to remember. Nothing more came to me.

I thought for a second about quitting drinking but quickly got better thoughts in my head. If I quit then I would have to remember everything I did. This was better.

I had just finished my beer and was getting ready to order another one when a man came through the door. Looking angry he watched every single person in the bar. He was searching for someone.

When he saw me we made eye contact and for a second I thought I recognized the man.

My memories came flooding back to me and I could remember the man now standing at the door looking straight at me.

I could remember that I should run as quickly as I could.

I stood but wasn’t fast enough in my drunken state. The man got to me with a perfectly placed right hook.

Everything went black.


Categories: flash fictionTags: , , , , , ,

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