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ANNIE MARCH LIVED QUITE the odd life. Her first ever memory involved her walking down a lone stretch of highway, her feet bare and scraped up, and her head empty of her entire life before that. Her pockets had been filled with wads of cash which initially left the woman believing she had robbed a liquor store or something but when no bottles of alcohol were found on her person, she came to the conclusion that the money must have been hers.
Whenever she had been from, she had managed to walk all the way to the state of Albany. She'd been carrying two fully packed gym bags. They carried no form of identification, no photos of friends or family. Nothing that would have helped her figure out the truth behind who she really was or where she had been going. So with no knowledge of who she truly was and no destination marked down, the then young woman wandered around aimlessly for much longer than she cared to admit. At first she had stayed in motels, not wanting to waste the money she had. Only when she got her first job as the baker in a cute little cafe, did the woman feel secure financially.
Her name had come to her randomly. Very quickly she realised that a name would be needed in order to get by in the world. She had been standing in line at the first little motel she had happened across, bags growing heavier by the minute as she waited for the motel receptionist to come back and check her in. A row of worn down, aged and dog-eared books had been scattered atop the counter which she had thankfully used to distract herself until the daunting realisation that she would need a name to check in had dawned upon her.
While in a slight panic and with no other choice, Annie had chosen the first thing that had popped out to her. The first name of the antagonist of the novel Misery by Stephen King and the last name of the March sisters from the novel Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Two books that had been carelessly thrown around the countertop for god knows how long at the point of her entry.
She had lived her weird, full of blank spaces life from that moment forward, unaware of who she truly was and feeling lost. This wasn't to say that Annie had experienced some truly amazing moments in life since then but when your own mind had cut away your past life, it's scary to wonder what had happened.
"You don't look so good." Her co-worker Rachel had said to the then forty-one year old Annie March, who hadn't taken the comment lightly and had assumed it was a dig at her aging appearance.
When Rachel had clocked the offence expressed sourly upon Annie's face, she had chuckled heartily as she shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean. You just look..." her voice trailed off for a moment while her bottom lip became captured between her teeth. "You look lost."
