Do you ever walk into a room and forget what you needed? That is how I feel right now. But more severe.
I know what I want in the back of my mind, but it is to far to grasp. I strain and struggle trying to figure out who he is, but all I can picture and remember is Trace's dead body lying on the ground and Spencer's tortured cries.
I stare blankly at the grass. I can hear the quiet footsteps approach me. I look over as he sits on the swing.
"Hey Ashton." I say weakly. The name sounds familiar in my mouth, but at the same time it isn't.
"You don't have to pretend that you know me." He says dryly.
"Please don't. Maybe if I can try to be your friend? Right?"
"A little more than that, but continue." He says.
"Maybe if I can be your best friend, everything will come back, and I will know how far the friendship-relationship thing goes." I look at him and he nods at me. I sigh with relief.
"So Ashton. I would like you to ask questions about yourself, and I will try to answer them." I say with a little more enthusiasm.
"Okay. Um... Last name."
"It starts with an 'I'"
"Think famous, bad ass, children show Australians."
"There you go. Middle name. It starts with an 'F'" I have a twinge of recognition.
"Fletcher?" I say in a squeaky voice.
"Yeah!" He says. He seems happy. Like the first time since the funeral. Which was a couple of hours ago.
Maybe this can rescue me from the tsunami of pain that I am being drowned by.