With a smug look on his face, he bends down. I watched him as he carefully tied a series of loops on the top of his right shoe. I recognize the sequence as he does it, but begin to wonder how I came to know it as well.
"You have four days left before the they come looking, ya know," he spits at me.
He looks up.
"Oh, God. I could have sworn you were her- uhh, excuse me.. I hav'ta go." As quickly as he came, he stumbled away, the strings of the left shoe waving back at me, mocking me.
Her? Who did I look like? Who is she?
Who am I?
My stomach grumbles ferociously at me for attention. I haven't even eaten yet. Eating.. I know I need to eat, but the taste of food still eludes me.
Instinctively, my hand reaches for a shining silver tool beside the plate. I begin sawing motions, on impulse, cutting through the layers of edible delight.
"Ahh!" I shriek as I pull the tool away from my injured finger. My eyes are suddenly drawn to a sight that I actually know.
Something I am familiar with.