House
The floor was warm. Teddy's deadweight was carried by the hard, white tiles of the bathroom floor. His light, raw sienna hair fell on his eyes, while the rest of it reminisced scattered on his head on the floor. He had missed the comfortable, fuzzy, raspberry tinted rug by a few inches, between the toilet and the sink. He struggled around a little bit to find comfort. And soon gave up. A bathroom floor isn't really a place of slumber. He got up to find glasses set on an edge of the tub. His instinct was to put them on, even though, nothing about this scenerio was familiar. He looked in the mirror for answers. Who was he really? What had happened to him? Where was he? Unfortunately, no one can find the answers to these things by studying their own reflection. Unless, one can really see their soul through their eyes.
He looked around the bathroom. There was nothing in there he could recall. So he went out the door, that lead him to a bedroom. One large bed and a very organized ensemble awaited him. A dresser, pictures on the wall, pillows, a record player, and more rugs. It was clearly a girl's bedroom.
He looked on top of the dresser, there was a little box, the size of a music box. He opened it and inside was a twinkie. "I'm starving!" He didn't hesitate to think of who's it could be. He just scarfed it down with no regrets.
Then, he continued to linger around for answers. Until he noticed there was someone sleeping on the bed. How could he not notice before? You say? Well, it was hard to tell. That bed had lots of puff to it, pillows and blankets, and you wouldn't be able to notice a person buried under it. He caught a glimpse of the girl's expresso hair-all over her face-as she shifted to a different direction than the one she was facing before-all in her sleep-and once again covered her face with the blanket. All in an instant, she had become blankets and pillows again.
Looking through her stuff wouldn't help him any. He figured. Even if he did find something about himself or of himself he wouldn't be able to recognized it. He didn't even know his own name. Whatever had brought him there, he clearly didn't belong, nor did he know who this girl was. He felt he was suppose to be aware of someone or something. But was this girl the enemy? If he wanted to find more answers he'd have to look outside of there. Someone is bound to be looking for him and they wouldn't be able to find him if he was in there. Should he leave or should he stay? So he left.