Cut Off

Imagine the last hour of your life erased from memory. You don't know how Someone else's name, someone's presence on the outside. to speak or how to simply open your eyes. You don't know how to walk or talk. Everything. Gone.
Then you remember one thing. Writing.
Martias Garcia. All 13 letters Ingraved into the very walls that caged me into the narrow perameters of - the box. I couldn't see the words , but I could feel them.
Communication is hard when your connection is severed with a wall and your unable to talk but we managed. And now I am starting to feel something for this mysterious figure from the outside. Friendship? Comfort?... Love? But do I really know who this person is? And will the circumstances of my imprisonment ever change so that I can actually meet them?
It's only one hour apparently but I can't remember what happened before that or before that? I'm about 15 so how can it only be an hour? So many questions.

One hour. Wiped away like it's nothing but with the meaning of absolute everything.