alone-a dale jackson story

2

written october 22nd, 2016

•dale's pov

her voice is hoarse and cracks slightly, as if she hasn't spoken for a long while. or maybe she's been crying. either one seems feasible. she stands and sets the bottle down on the table in front of us, then turns back to sit down on the couch next to me.

"uh...yeah." i reply, the feeling in my stomach changing from uncertain expectancy to anxiety and unease. we stare at each other for a few seconds until she shakes her head and lets out a small laugh.

"you don't remember me, do you?"

"can't say that i do."

"teresa, teresa barnes, we used to...know each other." her expression shifts mid-sentence, from her newfound joy back to the discontent of before.

straining my mind to remember, nothing comes to the forefront. i shrug and try to play it off.

"oh! yeah, theresa." i do my best to say it with excitement, but not too much vigor as to come off as a blatant lie.

"i missed you." she says softly, lovingly.

oh no, what have i gotten myself into?

"yeah," i grasp the back of my neck uncomfortably, wondering what secrets my mind is keeping from me-if it really is me she knows.

we sit there silently for a few minutes, and teresa must be content with it, because she leans her head on my chest and looks up at me, fondness in her eyes. then she sits up, pulling herself onto the couch, crossing her legs and staring at me intently.

"what are the chances we'd meet again? especially here, of all places?" teresa seems to truly believe she knows me; and i, in some horrible lapse of memory, have forgotten her. she's calmly excited, a wide smile on her lips and hands jittery, but she sits so close to me that she must know me. i must know her-i must. from somewhere. my past, maybe, and that'd make sense as i tend to block those memories out.

but i'm sure i know her--what else would explain the sickly sweet strange feeling in my stomach? hunger, probably. but this is more than that. something confusing that i need to know.