Standing Beside The Road to Somewhere

I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I woke up here. Things came slowly into focus; the sunshine, the occasional breeze, the noise!

Cars rushed past. This was a busy freeway! I was standing on the curb. Trucks mashed their horns, blaring at me. The air they displaced whipped my clothes against my skin. I jumped back, suddenly afraid of being hit.

Where were they going?

Where was I?

How did I get here?

I looked myself over. I had on ankle-high brown leather boots, a blue cotton skirt that went to my ankles. It was dotted with tiny white flowers. I had on a cream blouse trimmed in lace, and a long camel colored coat over the ensemble. I wore a beige scarf, and a woolly hat scratched my ears.

My hair was long and whipped in the drafts. When did my hair get long? I always kept it short.

Who am I?

It was a cool midday, maybe fifty, and I was lost, alone, and afraid. Whoever I was.

I had no memories.

I looked up and down the road. I chose a direction and started walking.

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