Echo

Chapter 8

There is a crap tonn of stuff in here. It makes my head hurt looking at it and my heart ache. Why is this place so familiar?

I look at the picture one more time studing my own face. My own face in a picture in a town I woke up in months ago. I never put this here.

Also there was someone else in the photo. A man his arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind his head resting on my shoulder. His head tilted smiling at the camera. He looked like an angel.

His skin pale his blue eyes squinted closed in happiness. He had brownish- blond hair and just enough weight to his figure to create a fullness to his face. He was stunning. His face was everywhere in this apartment. In pictures of us hung on the walls.

And Im crying because I cant remember who he is. I have been staring at his face for hours and nothing. Nothing.

No memory of who he was. I still slip the picture from the frame and tuck it in my pocket before I walk out.

I don't know where I am going considering the rest of the town is in ruin, but I just can't be in there anymore. I end up sitting on the front curb turning the picture over and over in my hands.

Snippets of memory flicker in my mind. Like some sort of movie with a broken film strip full of holes and gaps in the pictures. I stare at his face a moment longer. I think I was in love with him.

I tuck the picture back into my pocket and just run my hands over my face. If I knew him once, where did he go?

I push off from the curb and wonder down the streets. I kick the tiny chunks from the buildings down the sidewalk and make my way away from the apartment. Away from the crash.

I have some questions that need answers, and I have a feeling that the blackness will answer some.