Relay my life starting with yours

Finding himself alone with no memory of his own life can he rely on his supposed Friends word as he try's to tell him of the past from his own perspective?.

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5. Methods of Isolation

We reached the small café at 5:10, almost an hour since I had left home.

We were now sitting in a window seat sipping our selected beverages, I had a black coffee nestled between my fingers and he had a simple glass of water.

“You don’t much like being shouted at like that do you?” I asked after taking a small sip.

Brian shrugged leaning back in his chair not meeting my gaze.

“Did you know that when angry the rate in which your blood pumps around your body increases in speed?” he queried back making me confused.

I place the mug down and crossed my arms close to my chest, thinking about what he meant.

“Yea,” I cautiously answered eyeing him very carefully.

Sighing he lifted up his cup and pressed it to his lips, gulping down almost half of it in one go.

“Easy tiger,” I joked moving my hands back onto the table and around the mug.

Brian put the glass back down and bit his lip.

“Why don’t you hang around with people at school?” he asked looking as thou he was crossing some imaginary line.

“I rather being alone, in isolation you could say,” I explained finishing it off with a snort.

Confused he tilted his head.

“Then why did you call out to me,” he said his none telling me it wasn't a question.

My eyes widened now thinking about it, I really hadn't even realised what I had done that day until Brian pointed it out.

I began looking through my memory again and froze when I came to a certain part.

“Beautiful,” I muttered in realisation.

“Gray?” I heard a voice brining me back to the café.

Remembering where I was and with whom I felt a blush creep up my face.

“Sorry, my mind trailed of a bit,” I chuckled, sheepishly scratching the back of my head in embarrassment.

Brian shook his head but otherwise believing my half lie.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked me biting the inside of his cheek.

I frowned looking up to the celling.

“Me and my family moved here ten years ago when I was six, it eight years after that both my parents died,” I answered honestly, finding no reason to lie.  

Keeping my head up I waited for a response, after getting none I lowered my head thinking

That I must of made him uncomfortable.                                                                                  

Looking back to the shorter male I blinked.

Brian was just sitting up straight, his hands forgotten under the table with his mouth in a thin line.

I heard cursing to his right and turned my head to see.

A man was holding a napkin to one of his bleeding appendages.

“I have to go,” Brain suddenly announced quickly rising from his seat catching most of the café occupant’s attention.

Before I could say anything he was gone leaving me with my lukewarm coffee practically untouched.

After a few minutes of awkward silence passed I stood up to leave as well.

I went to leave the table only to trip over my disregarded shopping bags that I had forgotten about the whole time I was in the café.

Clearing my throat out of embarrassment I reached down and picked up the bags before leaving to return home, or hopefully bump into Brian again.

Once I was out side of the café I checked my surroundings, seeing no Brian in sight I sighed.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, walking back to the direction of my home past the woods to the left of the store.

Fifteen minutes later and I was home, I unpacked all of my groceries except for a spaghetti TV dinner that I was going to have for dinner.

Throwing the shopping bags into the bin I slid the cardboard cover off of the spaghetti and poked holes thru the plastic with a knife before placing it into my microwave and setting the time to three minutes and thirty seconds.

Waiting for my dinner to cook I taped a random rhythm with my fingers on to the countertop.

The minutes ticked of rather quickly but it still felt as though time was dragging on.

I opened up the microwave door and quickly took the corner of the plastic container and retrieved my dinner.

The plastic was still hot and burned the tip of my fingers on my right hand, I quickly dropped it onto the countertop.

Removing the plastic sheet from the top I walked over to the bin and slotted it in, I had quite an annoying rubbish bin.

I didn't have an opened cyclical top like most, instead it was closed off except for a small slit just big enough to push in a folded cereal box.

Going back to the spaghetti I bit my lip in thought, the runny red sauce reminded me of back in the café when Brian asked me a random question on blood and when that man cut his finger.

“Why did he leave?” I questioned no one in particular.

Sighing I opened a draw below the counter and took out a fork.  

Picking up the still hot microwave dinner I made my way over to my living room and plopped down onto the couch.

Placing the plastic container on my lap and put the fork in, swirling it around I waited until I had a decent amount wrapped around it before lifting it up and putting it into my mouth.

The sauce tasted more like water then tomato and the spaghetti was still a bit hard.

Swallowing I contemplated whether or not to continue eating it or to dump it.

Listening to my stomach over my taste buds I quickly finished the meal.

Looking over to the clock I sighed, it was getting late and even though it was a week end I still had work.

Getting up from the couch I brought the fork and now empty container back into the kitchen.

Chucking th fork into the sink I walked over to the bin, using my hands I broke the sides so that it was no longer like a 4-D rectangle and was now flat and could fit into the bin.

Sliding it in I nodded to myself before turning and making my way up to my room to get some sleep.

 

 

 

 

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