When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see sunshine and blue sky. Why he was surprised he didn't know, but it was as if he'd never seen it before, even though he knew he had. Hell, yesterday had been sunny, hadn't it? He searched his mind for the memory, but it came up blank.
Yesterday. Where had he been? His body seemed to remember heat, but there were no images to accompany that sensation. The more he thought of it, the more the thought seemed to slip away, like a blurry dream. Perhaps it was all just a dream. Perhaps he was still asleep.
But no, the sun and sky seemed real enough. The ground under his feet was real, and so were the smell of nature and the sound of birds and cars in the distance. He didn't seem to know where he was, though – couldn't recognize any of it. The field of green grass seemed woke a strange déjà-vu feeling inside him, but he knew he had never seen it before. Or the trees, or the fence, or anything. There were no buildings close by, no people, no streets. The only thing was a road of pebbles. That didn't seem familiar either.
A breeze touched his body, and he realized he was naked. Well, more or less. The rags on his body didn't cover much – and on top of that, they were dirty and looked half-rotten. What the fuck had happened? He touched the rags with his hands, slightly disgusted. They smelled like a dead person.
He caught sight of his hands – his nail beds were covered with dirt as well, and the nails were long and frail. He'd never seen his hands like that before.
Realization.
He'd never seen his hands before.
He stared at them as the thought grew inside his mind. He didn't recognize his hands. He didn't recognize his body. He couldn't see his own face, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't recognize that either.
Fuck.
He didn't know who he was.
He searched his mind for a last memory, for anything, but once again, it came up blank. Where there should be a lifetime of stories and images and feelings, there was only a void. Nothing.
He searched his pockets. But he didn't find any wallet, no photos, no ID, not even a stupid shopping list. The only thing was what might once have been a receipt, but it was in the same bad state as the clothes, and fell to pieces when he touched it.
He knew he probably should fall down and scream, maybe even cry, at the thought of not knowing who he was. Amnesia. That must be it, right? But it didn't scare him, not at all. Fact was, the only thing he felt was relief. The sun was shining on his pale, dirty skin, and he felt relieved. Free, somehow.
He started walking, heading for the pebbled road. He had never been more alone, more unsafe, more abandoned, and still, he had never felt better.
