Long Term Memory Sauce

it opens cans. must be a can opener.

A bottle was spun. Mel wondered what had been in that bottle.

Soda? Water? Booze?

The bottle slowed to a halt, and pointed at Dyna.

Mel did not know what for, but Dyna left. Bottle spinning must be a very common game, of some sort.

Games. Those were fun, according to someone Mel used to know. Occasionally, they would play games. Those had always been enjoyable, despite Mel losing every time.

Much like the games they played in their past life, Mel had no clue on how to play this one.

'Why the bottle?' Mel could not contain their confusion.

Simon replied with a nonchalant shrug, 'It's how we decide who to get our daily food rations. We usually rob the old supermarket.'

'What's robbing?'

'Oh, I don't know, when you steal things, pretty much.'

Mel was taken aback. Stealing was wrong, as they had believed their whole life. They had attempted theft before, only to have been given a stern lecture. They still could not remember from whom.

Dyna soon returned, with a plastic bag full of metal containers. She spilled them onto the ground in a corner. Mel picked a handful of them up. The labels had pretentious titles that screamed in your face like 'Helen's Golden Corn' and 'Best Deal Beans', with empty promises of top quality sustenance.

Dyna brought out a contraption Mel had never seen before, and slices open the metal lid of a can with the twist of a knob.

It opens cans. Must be a can opener.

Mel saw Dyna slide a can across the floor to them and a spoon. The smell of sardines hit Mel almost instantly. With a sheepish smile and a hushed 'Thank you', they put a spoonful of the fish meat in their mouth. The taste was pungent, but it was a new experience. A great leap into spontaneity. Dyna had said this was the worst of what they would get, so Mel was looking forward to the colourful meals ahead.

Nate took off his mask to eat. Mel caught a glimpse of Nate's true face, and it was... the same face on the mask.

A mask of his own face? Peculiar, but reasonable. Passersby would, in theory, assume Nate was anyone but himself, because masks hide a person's true identity.

Nate was a peculiar man.