Departed Memories

Chapter 3- On the Streets

The Man

It was hard for the man not to notice the lifeless civilians finally turn their eyes away from whatever originally had their attention toward his car. Every other car on the road was different. They all seemed to be the same white color as his vehicle, but all of them levitated. Levitation was definitely not a trick his car had. The man couldn't understand why his was different. He would've rather had a hovering car, like everyone else. At least then he wouldn't be the focus of hundreds of gazes. Each pair of glazed over eyes made him want to shrink towards the pedals, where he would feel safe rather than so exposed.

When he wasn't concentrating on avoiding the peculiar looks from strangers, he did notice that driving seemed like a natural habit to him. It felt like he had driven countless times. His hands gripped the wheel firmly and his foot pressed the gas pedal at a perfect pressure to match the speed of the hovering cars in front and behind him. The whole process felt natural, which was quite odd. Perhaps he didn't forget all the skills from his old life after all.

Remember, son, you want to keep both your hands on the wheel at all times-

The man tried to claw onto the memory, hold onto it for dear life, but it slipped away into oblivion. He lost the sound of the voice in his head, which he assumed belonged to his father. He wished he could still remember the deep voice. Maybe then it could help him recollect other moments of his life, too.

He shook the thought away. There was no point being frustrated with every flash of his past that ran across his brain. He knew there'd be many more to come. Being frustrated with it wouldn't get him anywhere. It was time he focused on figuring out where to go from here.

The Starlight Hotel.

Those three words were the only lead he had. They ran loops around his thoughts, taunting him. It was as if they were beckoning him to find this hotel, to locate the secrets that were hidden within. There had to be something waiting for him there, he knew it. Why else would he have remembered it?

His stomach grumbled as he drove through the maze of a city. Each building he passed seemed to be taller than the last, reaching toward the sun. The structures looked as if they were competing with the last, seeing which could be more outstanding than the other. The man chuckled at the thought.

He had been so focused on the Starlight Hotel that he had barely thought about food. The man knew he'd have to make a quick stop for something, anything, that could take his mind off his starvation. Luckily, in the distance, he spotted the perfect place to stop.

-----

"Hi, I'd like to order the banh xeo dish, please." The man walked up to the register of a Vietnamese restaurant, desperately craving food. The employee behind the counter eyes him warily, unsettled by his presence. His ragged looks and smell probably didn't help anything, but hell, he was determined to get some quality food from any place that did not belong to the unkempt vendors and their greasy carts outside.

He was surprised at the snobby internal voice directing him toward this Vietnamese cuisine. He seemed to have a peculiarly high standard for food. It steered him clear of countless other restaurants as he drove through the maze of a city, as they did not pass the checklist of his bossy internal food critic.

Even funnier, the man realized he could list each of the ingredients of the dishes listed across the ugly beige menus above his head. In fact, if he thought long enough about them, he could conjure up a recipe for each.

How come I can remember how to cook but have forgotten the entirety of my life?

"That'll be $10.07." The cashier knocked him out of his thoughts. The man wondered how long he had been staring at the list of meals overhead.