She is gone for a few minutes at most and comes back down a lot less anxious and sits down at the counter with a harrumph. I did not start eating because I have no idea what is in front of me.

“So, whenever there is a service offered, we need to give payment to the other party.” The girl starts slowly, gauging my reaction. I nod in agreement but she gives me a calculating look before she continues slowly. “...meaning, you can go into my bag and grab cash out of my wallet and give the person whatever is due.”

“So, I need to physically hand them some form of currency.”

The chit looks at me dumb struck and pauses before continuing. “Yes, Lucy, everyone needs to pay with cash or at times with credit card. You always need to pay otherwise you’d be committing a crime.”

“Why not set up an account where they can just pull the allotted amount and forget about the whole physical note exchange. Is it not more convenient this route? Not to mention cleaner; I can't imagine how many hands those physical notes pass through and what walks of life they lead before it comes into your possession.”

The girl just rolls her eyes and waves off my last comment before she tilts her head as though the thought hit her on the side of her head.

“Do you mean a 'tab'? We don’t do things like that here. Well, maybe special places may do that, especially if you're a frequent customer, but services provided need to be paid otherwise you may not get what you ordered or get into trouble.”

“Hm, strange. I could have sworn it was everywhere.”

My naivety is irking and amusing Ms. Atoa; I smile to myself. I watch the girl intently as she grabs a hold of her spoon with her right hand and fork in her left. She then proceeds to scoop items onto her spoon, the fork acting as a knife in many ways, baring the rebellious foods from falling from the spoon. Odd but doable, so I follow in suit and after she glances at me from the side of her field of vision, she smiles in what I think is approval.

After my first bite of the cashew and vegetable stir fry, I thought I bit into some sort of forbidden drug and dug right in. The girl gave me a knowing smirk and added a serving of another dish. It was savory and sweet and eased all my aches from the day.

“Have you ever had Thai food before?” Ms. Atoa finally asks after eating a good helping.

“I cannot say that I have.” I would like to think I would remember something this flavorful with various textures of tubers and fibrous vegetables. 

“This food is from Thailand and it can be spicy at times. I ordered us cashew chicken, royal stir fry, coconut soup and fried rice. How is it?”

“The flavors are quite distinct yet they work well together. Very good use of spices, I must say.”

“Right?” Is she asking me a question or is that some backwards way of showing agreement? I guess from the enthusiastic tone, it is in agreement. I do not comment and just see if she says anything more. “Oh, and there is some Thai tea as well. I can’t get over how delicious this place is as well as how consistent they are. Wanna watch a movie as we finish up the soup? I kinda want to be in front of the fire since you worked so hard to keep it burning.

“That sounds acceptable.” I don't know where Ms. Atoa gets her enthusiasm especially after she nearly looked like she would call the authorities on me for not paying earlier but I'm not going to try my luck.

“Good! Grab your soup and let’s go sit on the couch.”

We make our way to the couch and Ms. Atoa sets up the entertainment for the night, hands out blankets. She then settles next to me to watch an old black and white film, whose name I cannot remember but it is enjoyable nonetheless. I notice the girl starts to fall asleep midway through the movie but fortunately for both of us, she completes her soup before the drowsiness kicks in and starts to lean on my shoulder. 

When she is completely asleep, I carefully remove the bowl from her grasp, and lean back, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. My focus is not so much on the movie anymore as it is on the crackle of the fire and the steady breaths I hear from the slumbering girl. Perhaps she won't have the same bad dreams that have been plaguing both of us tonight since she fell asleep in such a good mood. 

When I think about the day's events, I cannot believe that it all happened in one day. I look down at Ms. Atoa's sleeping form and she looks very young and at peace despite the struggles that we both face daily. She grumbles and I smile down at her when I think about how excited she was to show me the falls and how to use transportation here. 

I never really think about how much more freedom one gains with know-how and bravery in a strange place. Being a dog, I did not really consider this. I never shied away from people when I needed to wander and look for food. Of course, I had no sense of self but I don't know if I was fearless because I didn't know any thing of who I was except living from day to day. Once I become self aware, that need for survival was not at the forefront of my mind but I was rendered helpless. Like a child learning all the skills needed for like, one step at a time, Ms. Atoa held my hand so I do not fall. As humiliating as it is to be in my situation, I am grudgingly grateful to her, but I don't think I'll tell her just yet; she has a big enough ego as it is. 

I slowly feel my eyes droop and my will to keep them open is failing miserably to the lull of sleep. As I review our adventure, I smile at various times I found myself shocked, even questioning innate ideals that baffles me at the lack of imagination and fortitude I need to survive as I am.

I suppose everyone can use someone like Ms. Atoa in their lives as a reminder.

*****

The morning is crisp and as my foggy mind wakes up, I am glad I had no dreams to haunt or recoil from. I, however, do find that my back is rather stiff and my arm completely numb from laying against the armrest. When I look down to see what is causing me such pain, it shocks me to discover that someone resting against me is none other than the girl. The cacophony coming from the television set is suddenly too loud so I reach for the remote and push the 'on/off' button to turn the TV off. 

I set about to carefully move Ms. Atoa off of me so I can get ready for the day. There are a few groans of protest as I lift her high enough for me to slip away and gently set her down, draping the extra fallen blanket on her sleeping form. I pick up our dishes from the previous night and carefully place them in the rack of the 'dishwasher.' 

So imaginative with their names, are they not.

I forget what Ms. Atoa does to start the washing cycle so I close the door and head upstairs, thinking about yesterday’s trip. Yes, the sites were comparatively different from anything in my limited memory but what strikes me is the companionship this girl and I have. We make a day of sightseeing out of the neighborhood and I find I did not want to kill her or vice versa. Well, I do not think she wanted to kill me as she had many opportunities at the river. I was rather surprised that she is as capable as she is and cannot help but dwell on the fact that I am the more handicap of the two of us. Somewhere deep in my bones, I know I've never been this dependent. 

And so, goes another day feeling like everything is just beyond my grasp. 

After I finished my morning shower, I stare at my reflection as I have gotten into the habit of cataloging my features to see if that will help stimulate help. Focusing on one feature might spark something from before. 

It may be my imagination, but almost think that something minute like my eye color changes or my hair shortens slightly. Yet, when I blink, I am back to seeing my normal self. I need to stop looking at myself because I am starting to hallucinate now.

When I come down the stairs tying my hair back and away from my face, I am startled to see that Ms. Atoa is not only awake but sitting upright with thinly slitted eyes for this time of morning and light filtration.

“Good morning”. I greet her but it seems to be more brainpower than she is capable of and only grumbles and slowly rises. “I do wonder if it is worth talking to you before you have broken your fast. Intelligible conversation seems to be beyond you.” Ms. Atoa only grunts, stumbling as she lazily and trudge up the stairs. I think she mumbles something about, "using terms like 'before you have broken your fast' accompanied by some more grumbles as she disappears upstairs.

I watched the girl’s aunt enough times to know the basic mechanics of how to prep and cook in the kitchen but it still seems a rather foreign ordeal for me. I end up slicing my fingers with the knife more times than I want to admit. The girl does not need to know that I am not as competent with a sharp object as she is. 

While adding the eggs into a hot skillet, I hear a very faint sound that catches my attention. I strain my ears trying to pick up the sound and realize it’s music in the background. It sounds vaguely familiar so I turn off the stove and set the eggs aside as I climb halfway up the stairs just behind the kitchen and listen. I know that tune and I listen to it being hummed, with lyrics every now and again but I know it somehow. I strain and actually find that I can fill in the lyrics that Ms. Atoa omits if I were to really pay attention and my throat tightens as I mouth the words along with the tune. Suddenly, the screeching of the water spigot jars my train of thought and I lose all the lyrics that fill my head, let alone the tune floating in the air moments ago.

Shaking myself out of this stupor, I proceed to finish up the cooking trying not to feel bothered by the fleeting auditory memory that came as fast as it left. Setting the plates down, I hear the tell tale sign of Ms. Atoa walking down the stairs.

“When you are finally out of your stupor, I have a proposal for today’s agenda.”

“Too much talk.” The girl said curtly holding up one hand to say stop and picks up her place with the other. “Gotta shove food in the mouth hole.” I mouth the word and shake my head in distaste.

Mouth hole. She is very articulate.

“What was that song you were just humming upstairs?”

“Hm?” Ms. Atoa actually pauses her feeding frenzy for a moment and ponders about what I ask her, swallows whatever is left in her mouth before replying, a bit out of breath. “I don’t know. It just sorta came to me. Why, do you know it?”

I do, but I cannot pinpoint where from.

“It sounds familiar.”

Finally, fully awake and done with her breakfast, Ms. Atoa takes a large gulp of her coffee and sighs contented. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll be down for whatever today.” I must have given her a look because she amends her statement. "I mean, I free to do anything you want to do."

“Shall we, then?” I ask politely extending my arm out and she promptly hops from her seat and places her hand on the crook of my arm in faux prim acceptance.

“We shall.”

*****

“Where are we going?” Ms. Atoa asks while shrugging on her coat.

“To a place where all our questions will be answered.” I throw over my shoulder and continue to walk down the stairs to the first floor.

“Just for clarification,” She yells at the top step, starting to catch up as I walk to the main entrance, “since that doesn’t tell me where this ‘place’ is, what is the name of said place.”

“For Irah’s sake, girl, I don’t know!” Exasperated and desperate to follow my hunch, I hold the door open, impatiently waving her to walk before me.

Taking a cue from Ms. Atoa’s actions yesterday, once out on the curb of the main road, I raise my hand and ‘hail’ my first taxi. The girl smiles brightly at my new found skills and I quirk an eyebrow at her.

Yes, old dogs can learn new tricks and Lucretius Fahrgren is indeed a quick study.

Of course, I did have to suppress my urge to smirk at my own adaptability but inside I am rather pleased with how much I have learned during my first few days as a human.

“I would think that you have some idea of our destination with this sort of determination.” The girl manages to sneer at me snottily only to turn abruptly, making me collide with her. “Who’s Iroh, anyway?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘for Iroh’s sake’ but who’s Iroh?” Ms. Atoa asks. 

"Irah" I correct her. "‘Who’s Irah?’ Why she-she…. Hm." 

Maybe I don’t know who she apparently. 

“It’s just an expression!” I bluster in my defense. “Must you question me every step of the way?”

“...Yes!” Now she’s just being petulant and knows that it irritates me. She does have a point in questioning us, 'amnesiacs' since it’s like the blind leading the blind, but I do not take too kindly to having my weaknesses pointed out to me. 

The taxi pulls up just in time to stop what would probably be an argument we quickly brush off as I open the door. Watching as we traverse Main Street, I look out the window when a glimmer that catches my eye sparking something I’ve seen before.

Where have I seen that…?

I realize quickly I knew exactly where I’ve seen those glimmers and I realize I need to act soon before my amnesia and short term memory kicks in! I’m  racking my brain for what I’m trying to remember, seeing these glimmers almost everywhere I go, I just never realized until now.

“Driver, turn right here and go straight until the park.” I lean in and instruct the driver, ever so grateful for the multiple times we’ve walked there because now I know it like the back of my hand. The whole time, Ms. Atoa looks at me in confusion only to shrug and look back outside until we arrive.

“We’re back here again? Can’t seem to get enough in either forms?”  Ms. Atoa jokes, punctuating her statement with a playful nudge and I need to really resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose at her antics.

“Yes, I am interested in investigating something.”

I can feel it. I know what I’m looking for is right here.

We head towards the top of the cliff and stare hard beyond the steep.  Ms. Atoa follows behind until I suddenly stop. This is the spot I stood before a certain young lady decided it would be wise to stop this large dog by his tail.

“It’s here.” I say with finality, as everything in my being and mind has loud alarm sounding in my head.

I kneel down and a it’s as though I have a memory of this area as a man about Ms. Atoa’s age. I see the girl, plain as day, the same exact age and I am. I have no idea what we are doing but I am standing on thin air with my back turned away from the cliff. Ms. Atoa confidently place a hand on my shoulder and then touch the air before her. 

A bright light flares and dissipates quickly with no trace of the memory. I am the only one to see it as it does not seem like Ms. Atoa notices my odd behavior; her own attention is drawn elsewhere.

I know it. Now let’s see if my earlier hunch about the girl is correct.

“Come along.” I say resolutely leaving the girl behind looking at me as though I suddenly sprout an extra head. “There is something I need to clarify.”