The amber liquid arrives first. I knock it back in one, fire races down my throat. It burns. It hurts. It feels wonderful.
For the first time in days, the fog in my head clears ever so slightly. I rest my elbows on the bar and stare at the wood grain beneath my fingertips.
Everything I've learned so far is useless. Something happened that night, something important. But every answer creates three more questions. Why did those memories come back now? What am I? Why did those men know things they refused to explain? Most importantly, why does every road lead back to them no matter how hard I try to walk in the opposite direction?
A plate lands gently in front of me.
I look up.
The bartender was right, he’s produced the most beautiful grilled cheese I've ever seen. Golden brown with cri
