There is something so potent about death, mass death, and its finality that can strike down on history’s mightiest people leaving them to languish in despair. The revelation that we may be the last people to live through a disaster that kills many or all the people we once knew is as harsh as falling through thin ice in the dead of winter with no one to pull you out. 

“It will be alright, Ms. Atoa.” I can only offer her words of support and let her cry. The girl clings to me for support as she did almost a month ago but this time I, too, feel utterly devastated by the implication of what our nightmares may mean in reality. She isn’t the only one that has lost someone in the past. Both of us, amnesiacs may not remember who we lost but the loss is as real as our forgotten memories that we know should be there. 

I may have my human form back now but everything that may have been important to me in the past as well as represent everything I may have been is now destroyed; this outcome is more than anyone will want to face with or without memories. There is some solace, albeit morbid as it is, that someone else knows the same loss and the same emptiness that I am feeling. 

It’s been a long night.

“It is late and you need your rest.” I finally tell her once her sobs subside and help her up, leading her to the stairs. I keep an arm around her for stability until she reaches the bed, where I cover her and turn to take my leave.

“Please, just stay." She mumbles sleepily, "I actually sleep better with your presence here and the dreams are not as bad.”

I go to the other side of the bed and lay down with my back to her but it isn’t long before I feel an arm wrap around my midsection. I close my eyes in hopes of turning my brain off for the night, ignoring the hole that I now have in my heart of a loss I have no recollection of.

****

The following morning, I get up and head downstairs when I didn’t see the girl still in bed as she often likes to sleep in, but I smell an aroma that has become a staple in my mornings - bacon. I go down and see her cooking breakfast and take a seat as I peruse the paper just laying on the counter when I hear a plate set down besides me.

“Lucy, I-”

“Lucretius.” I correct her because that ridiculous name is very unbecoming.

“Lucretius, I managed to scrounge up some clothes for you.” She continues, “I had to guesstimate what your size was but they should fit.”

“Much obliged.”

“Where are you from?” The girl inquires suddenly.

“I…” I pause to try and remember but now that she asks, I have no inkling of where my home is. “I can not recall.”

“Hm. I can’t say I can tell from your accent, but your diction and mannerisms don’t seem to be American.

“Quite.” Accent? I do not have an accent! You and your aunt have a dreadful accent while your uncle’s is forgivable but I do not have an accent.

“I can’t say if it’s British or even Kiwi or an Oz accent so maybe you’re from Europe.”

“Well, trying to distinguish my accent will not help us at the moment so let us put our heads together and focus on what we do know." She nods in agreement so I continue, "We both have amnesia,” I look at her to confirm and she ascends her head as an affirmation. “We are able to see one another in our dreams and interact just as we do when we are awake.”

“I’ve been conscious from my coma for almost a half year", Ms. Atoa adds, "yet when I met you a few month ago, not only were my dreams more vivid but I am slowly gaining access to memories from before the accident. I call it "the Incident", which you and I have no recollection, nor anything for that matter before my coma.”

“I only had conscious thoughts as a human being a few weeks prior to meeting your acquaintance. Before that, I seemed to be just as mindless as the beast whose body I possessed.”

Ms. Atoa gets up from her seat and walks to the nearby bookshelf where she picks up a book and takes it back to her seat.

I have also been having hallucinations since we met.” She comments nonchalantly as she looked in her book. I look at her quizzically, raising one eyebrow at the confession. “What? I have been keeping a journal since I got back from the hospital. It helps me remember things.

That is actually a very good idea. I am impressed, to say the least and should ask her for some writing materials of my own.

“Hey, Lucy?” Ms. Atoa starts her question in a seemingly small voice.

“Hm?”

“How old are you?

“What?”

“How old-”

“I know what you said, girl, but I can hardly believe you would ask such a forward question to a complete stranger.”

“An antiquated notion and hardly a stranger if you slept in my bed yesterday."

"I - pardon me?" I sputter at her insinuation but she talks over me - A bad habit I'll have to break her of. 

"You know what I mean and you’re changing the subject so...old, I take it.” The chit takes advantage of catching me off guard and jeers at my expense.

“I’ll have you know, I am in my prime years-” Affronted by her rude comment.

“Over it you mean. I’ll take it you’re 50 - so very old.” She grimaces and mumbles to herself.

“...46.” I think. I can practically feel gravity pulling down on my brows in a very unbecoming manner but this girl sure had a way of pushing my buttons.

“I’m only teasing! Sure, you’re slightly younger than my father if he were still around but don’t worry-”

“Worry? Why would I ever need to worry?”

“-I’m not about to put you out to pasture just because you’re over the proverbial hill."

Wonderful. Listen to her rave on just to heckle me. If this is the sort of harassment I knew I would get as a human, I may as well have stayed in my canine form. 

“I have no idea what you are babbling about in that last statement but I have a strong suspicion that it is not at all flattering or becoming of someone your age.”

“I’m 26, and my manners just are fine.” She waves off the glare I am giving her but continues on, “Listen, I’m sorry I even brought it up but at least that is something about yourself that you definitely know. Now, I’m going to go do some errands, but I’m leaving these books for you to read. Try and see if anything….sounds familiar to you or the pictures, Oh!” Ms. Atoa races to another bookshelf and grabs a large book, a thick hardback printed in vibrant colors, gesturing to it and waving her hands around it as though it is a prized piece of jewelry on display.

“Woo~ look at all these lovely pictures.” She chimes in brightly in a sing-song tone while ostentatiously waving her hands and wiggling her fingers. “You just may know one and we can try and take you there if it'll help.”

I just look at her skeptically and lay my palms out and up before me so that she may lay the large tome of “Popular Destinations Around the World” within my hands.

“Anyhoo, I’ll be back within the hour, but peruse through the tome at your leisure.” the girl manages to mock my accent and poise remarkably well for only hearing it for morning.

I look down at the book in my hands and resign to my lot while she is gone. Having found different means to keep myself busy for the past month, taking up some light reading is not a bad choice to make the time go by.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” The girl startles me as she practically falls through the door with her hands full of bundles and bags, throwing her center of balance off. “I hope you weren’t too bored but I found you some clothes and fortunately, I did have money in my bank account - I didn't even know I have one. I have an idea on what we can do today.” She prattles on and zooms through her tiny living area, throwing things haphazardly like a whirlwind - at times missing her target. “Oh, by the way, did you recognize any of those spots in the book?”

The excitable girl practically said that all in one breath and shoves a few bags that she hadn’t flung around the room like a mad woman into my hands. I look down at her purchases and look up at her in question and she just flashes me a expectant smile to do something.

Looking down at the open book to a familiar location in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia, I simply reply, “No.”

“What? None of these places?”

“These are all familiar yet none as concrete as when you asked for my age.”

Ms. Atoa bit her lip in thought and tapped her foot impatiently before she turns to me with an easy going smile and shrug saying, “Well, we’ll have to try harder to figure this out then, now won’t we?”

At that point she looks pointedly at my bags then at me a few times before I realized she was hinting at something that she expected me to do. 

Is it sad I miss the good ol' days of being a dog where she would tell me exactly what she wanted me to do and I did not need to figure out what she is hinting at?

I sigh and take my leave upstairs into the bathroom but realize that I don’t know how to turn on the shower.

“Ahem! May I have some assistance with the shower?”

"Lucy, I declare!" She once again puts on a heavy accent I don't recognize, "I am utterly scandalized by your forward behavior."

My expression must have fallen or be exactly what she anticipated because she guffaws at my expense and slaps my shoulder in jest.

"Oh, the look on your face! It's priceless." She chortles to her self.

I march on upstairs and the girl is in the bathroom shortly, showing me how to maneuver the various pipes to turn on the water and adjust the temperature to my liking. She is just about to leave as I start to take off my shirt when she suddenly comes back into the bathing room, a slight blush upon her cheeks and then her shy expression changes to one of indignation.

“Hey! You have some explaining to do about all those mornings when you jumped into the shower with me!” The girl’s reprimand echos off the small bathroom tiles and I just put my hands up surrendering to the verbal onslaught.

“A man needs to cleanse himself and I swear to you, I was every bit the perfect gentleman and averted my eyes as I warmed up during those cold mornings. You were the only one that knew how to work the shower as I had paws at the time and I was solely reliant on you. I always kept to my corner if we were in the shower together.”

She still looks a bit skeptical but I am sure I convince her it was harmless and necessity.

Granted, if I were being truly honestly, I may have had a glimpse accidentally but nothing more outside the normal of what is considered indecent.

Showering for the first time turns out to be a rather new and enjoyable experience unlike any that I can remember. I don’t have to rely on anyone and best of all, no fur. The hot sprays and the steam billowing around me, I can now cleanse myself of the filth and grime that seems to be clinging to me from my time on the streets. 

I finally feel human again.

My hair has grown dreadfully long over the time I’ve been a dog and I now have a beard that makes me look like some kind of wild man. I find it to be a new annoyance keeping it pristine and clean and I’ll need to a trim it soon. When I step out of the shower, feeling cleaner than I’ve felt in who knows how long, I wipe the steam off the mirror and take a good hard look at myself. 

Very long, straight mane of platinum white hair. Check. More than a 5 `o clock shadow, check. Grey eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, check and check. One scar silvery and raised, check. Memory of how I received scar or of anything of my life before now….To Be Determined.

This is who I am. 

Not the mutt roaming the street but a man. A very hairy man in need of some proper grooming but a man nonetheless. I may not know where I come from for certain, but I am not from here or those places depicted in that picture book. Apparently I can turn into a dog and meet with a strange girl in shared dreams. I’m not quite sure if that is what constitutes as normal but for now it is my current state in life. I do wonder what my connection to Ms. Atoa is but I suppose that is another item to add to my long list for later investigation.

I frown at my reflection and proceed to dump the contents of the bags Ms. Atoa has given me to find a pair of dark grey slacks and a dark blue long sleeve button down shirt. Something doesn’t feel right about this material but I put it on as I have n

o other clean clothes at my disposal. 

For some reason or another, this circumstance seems odd to me. I feel as though I have never been in a situation where need to rely on someone for something as simple as a shower and clothes in the past. It is like a little voice in my head telling me, “Oh, how low you have fallen, Lucretius, to accept handouts from a lowly girl and not able to stand on your own two feet,” tsking me all the while. Granted, I can’t pinpoint the exact memory or have any explanation why I feel that way, but I have an inkling that I’ve seen better days. I place my old clothes in the now empty bags and bring it downstairs with me, still wondering where that sudden urge of self depreciation came from.

“There’s something wrong with these clothes. I know deep down that I never wore clothes like these before and they are possibly below my standards and status.” I mutter to myself offhandedly and pull at the bottom hem of the flimsy cotton material.

“Lucy, you don’t even remember who you are,” My head snaps up at the annoyed tone of Ms. Atoa’s voice, “let alone what clothes you wore and your status. Since you’re staying with me, your status has dropped to the lower bottom rung in society, so welcome. Right now, my main goal is to make sure you blend in well enough so you aren’t mugged. If I can somehow get you through a week without getting jumped or bamboozled while you’re with me, I’ll consider it a win on my part.”

“I suppose,” I droll a doubtful response to her comment, “this is what I get for associating with the ‘lower bottom rung’ of the social ladder.” I’ll just make disparaging remarks about her in return and see how she enjoys it. I may be adle minded but I'm not completely useless.

“Well, you found me, so deal.”

“I don’t see why you are getting upset when those were your own words, not mine.”

“I was using it as a point of reference that you aren’t home and yes, you will have to adjust from looking down your aristocratic nose to mingle with those of us in the gutter that are of a lower status, as you so aptly put it but hey, you can still be a mutt scrounging around for scraps and try to live it up that way. All I am saying is I am all you’ve got and I would like some appreciation rather than differential treatment!"

"Do these aristocratic features look like they care about what you would like?” I give her a pointed look and when all I receive is an open mouth, fish out of water look of shock and nothing else. I grab an elastic from the counter tying my long hair back just as I turn and walk to my seat that I know she claims as her own and sit. Hers no more.

“Unbelievable.” she turns and walks away in a huff but all I can really wonder about is the voice in my head that may have started this whole debacle and whether or not it was mine.