The palms of his hands create excessive sweat that adds to the anxiety that pinches his nerves and torments his sensitive mind. He doesn't know where he is or how he had gotten to this place, it was as if a large chunk of time had been lost.
The night temperatures nipped at his nose as he looks around frantically to find some sort of a familiar scene. A few people walking down the city streets are glued to their phones and don't pay any mind to the man who finds himself lost in a place he has no recollection of. His breath dances in the cool air as he heaves in and out still trying to come to terms with everything that was occurring.
Where was he? How did he get here? Why can't he remember anything?
Surely, he must have remembered leaving to wherever this place was. How could someone just lose huge chunks of time he can't recount?
He combs his ring-clad hand through his blonde curly hair that he wished to cut. He didn't like having long hair but every time he tried to do something about it he felt a sudden urge to stop what he was doing. It was as if he was fighting for control over himself even though he wasn't sure what he was up against.
The busy city streets play a soundtrack of horns as he walks around to alleviate the stress and anxiety that is swirling around in his mind. He searches around the different neon signs that keep the sidewalks lit up until he sees a little shop across the road.
"Philadelphia Cheese Steaks,"
The letters glow in a yellow hue that he traces his eyes over and over again.
He reaches into his pocket to find some loose change but not his phone which was what he was looking for. He thinks on his feet when a phone booth comes into view, he needed to get ahold of her. She would know what to do, she always knew what to do.
He quickly locks himself in the confines of the public payphone that smelled of the city. He slips some of his loose change from his jeans into the slot and dials up the only number he knew by heart. His skin trembled as did his mind as the ringing on the other line searched to find an answer for the number dialed.
His eyes are wanderous and scan around his surroundings to catch a glimce of himself in the glass reflection of the phone booth. Clothes he would normally never wore dressed his shaking and trembling body. Black ripped skinny jeans cinched to his waist anda white t shirt layered with a red flannel and black leather jacket. A style that wasn't his own as he furrows his brows and keeps his hand fastened to the phone.
The thick mositure in the booth glazes a thin layer of sweat over his forehead that he doesn't bother to keep wiping at. His lungs feel deprived of fresh air that the public booth is sucking right from under him.
"Hello?" Her voice is comforting to him and puts ease onto his tense and strained body.
"I don't know where I am," He says breathing heavy again, butterflies erupt and disturb any peaceful feeling he may have had from her.
"Harry, is that you?" She asks him. She sounds worried from the way her voice shakes and is uneven in the pace. "Where are you? I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours!"
"I-I- I don't know... I think I'm in Philadelphia..." He can't seem to pinpoint exactly where he is but from that neon sign across the street he makes a plausible assumption.
"What are you doing in Philly? Harry, are you okay?" By the time in her voice you can tell she has worried herself into a frenzy over the whereabouts of her husband.
"I- I don't know," He doesn't have any other feeling but extreme fear and frustration. He tries to press his mind for answers but it comes up empty handed.
