While going west on I-90 again, you keep inside the car a mix of low-level air-conditioning and heat from outside that makes you feel febrile.
“Oh yeah, I didn’t ask that guy what those frequencies were about,” you remember and then discard the thought along with some fleshy strawberry scalps out the window. When you focus your eyes back on the road, though, you notice a sizable pile of debris that you’re fast approaching.
“It looks like disassembled playground equipment,” you nearly think aloud whilst a semi zooms past the debris, flinging some of it in your direction. What looks like a piece of a schoolyard merry-go-round gone out of its centrifugal orbit is coming directly toward your driver’s side window. The next thing you know you’re sitting in front of your aunt and an older gentleman with glasses and a clipboard.
“What is the last vivid memory you can recall?” “I…must remain…in Lost Dakota.”
The man takes a couple notes.
“Do you know what the capital of North Carolina is?” he asks. You answer despite feeling a giant black void behind your last thought.
The doctor waits a few seconds and then asks, “And do you know how to spell it?”
“Spell what?” you answer back.
The man then leans forward with a stern brow, “My name is Dr. Haythorpe and I am informing you that you have an 8 to 10 second short-term memory span.”
The doctor’s words stun you, pushing you back in your seat and then, “I’m sorry. Did you just say something important?”
The End…and The End…and The End…
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