i know
'oh my god james is writing another one what the hell she can't even update one of them regularly'
gosh maybe i'm tired of writing such dramatic poop okay ):
naaah it's okay to complain
(i would just like it better if you would complain to me via leaving crit or reviews or anything okay! those things keep me writing; because with out them i feel like no-one is reading this crap and it's like WELL WHY AM I UPLOADING IT THEN sobs)
N E WAI
yeah this is probably going to be pretty short and much, much less dramatic/dark than routine
...maybe. idk apparently that's all i can write /shot
anyway, thank-you for reading!
reviews are amazing, just saying!
He stood in line for the check-out, a few frozen dinners stacked in the cart; matched with milk, cereal, and a few grooming necessities.
Smiling, he let his eyes wander along the tiles of the ceiling, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the handle of the cark to a song he would never be able to name. It was catchy; absent of words, but the electronic tune struck a thread in his heart.
It felt like déjà vu, the song. The way he could swear he's heard it before; maybe in a movie, or perhaps it was in a commercial- somewhere. Yet he could never place it, or very well find it.
The cashier finished with the elderly couple ahead of him and he pushed his cart forward, knocking it against the counter slightly as he stopped to unload his groceries.
Cheerfully he chatted with her, laughing when she made a joke about how hungry he must be to have purchased so many Hungry Man meals. He handed her a coupon- one the store delightfully mailed to him, worth fifty dollars in discounts, just for being new to the town. The cashier made a crack about moving to such a small place and he replied with the fact it was much, much better than his previous homestead.
Packing up his sacks- He used the reusable bags; the environment was too important to just abuse plastics and paper by using the bags the stores provided- He gave the cashier a small wave and thank-you and went on his merry way, right to the parking lot and to his car.
The old blue thing's paint was peeling and the bumper stickers were long faded ('Honk for a cake to the face!' sun-bleached to 'K o a ke ace?') and the doors didn't lock, nor did the rear-passenger-side window roll down at all, but it ran. He could be thankful for that.
He opened up the backseat and shoved the bags inside, slamming the door after and opening the driver's side for himself, hopping in and starting the little Chevy Geo as soon as he had his ass planted.
It was a new town, and a new start. He grinned as he turned the radio up louder, a catchy beat piquing his interest as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main street. The college years were always the best years to make memories!
Memories, he was aware, were fleeting, of course; when age comes along, he was bound to forget his fair share, but in the meanwhile, might as well make as many as he could forget.
Though he's already forgotten one. Not that he really had a choice; his entire past was stolen from him- Reset, one could say.
Which was exactly what happened.
His entire life was reset. He wasn't aware in the least.
There were hints- Like how he had an odd inclination for salamanders and giving internet trolls 'a chance'- But they were fleeting, mere aspects of his personality he could claim as quirks.
He would find himself dwelling about things, things that surprise him every time they enter his mind. Aliens; the possibility of them existing, a poorly-drawn yet still hilarious comic he could never name to save his life, names of people that would pop into his mind one minute and disappear the next.
John would shrug it off, for the most part.
The imagination was a powerful thing.