It's surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.

[glass_beddau]

[Fifteen minutes past amnesia, January 13 (day 227)]
[Miskatonic Café]I'm on the road. On a street, rather, neat cobbles and scabs of snow and buildings (in fine enough repair, low-built, a storey or two; lived in, like enough) under the grey air. Sun's overhead through dim clouds and I'm guessing it to be midday

Comments

[pirate_mystic]

Ain't too cold a day, compared to how it's been. Not recognisin much of anythin in the town, but it ain't the first time we pitched up somewhere with dark comin on, so I figure I ain't had much chance to be around. Kinda funny how it seems familiar, though. Figure these small towns get to lookin alike after a while.

Gotta say I don't much like how I can't remember nothin about it. Don't seem to have near as much spit an vigor to me as I should, an I know I had that an forgetfulness from wound fever afore now. Could be it, but I ain't got my gun, neither, an I don't like that. An why'm I at liberty on my own in the middle of damn town at this time of day?

No, I don't like this any at all. See a chophouse or some such up ahead an let myself in the door, careful cause it ain't like townsfolk always like a swoddy. Overhear a fellow as I come on in: "Captain Benedict Donner, Mr. Laclos. I'm with the Company across the river."

That settles me some. Don't know his face, but brass comes an goes, an it ain't hardly worth it to remember 'em. Take up a seat with my back up against the wall - ain't no point putting myself under his eye if I got no need to.