Sunshine

OK. Italian is an easy langauge to speak, move your hands and enunciate your vowels. A friend with an Italian background mentioned the syllables in English are 'impure', that 'Anglos always add a -y sound to every vowel! It'sa no music in ma ears!' Channel your friend, what was his name? Angelo, probably. "Hey-a I don't-a know-a who-a you are-a talkin' too" No, you didn't say that. You smile and walk away. You had something else you needed to do... [[Try to remember what you were doing]]

You are getting closer, maybe if you engage your other senses it'll help you remember. You try to trace numbers, in the air... Nope, the number was printed on a sheet of copy paper, it wasn't written down. Whatever sensorimotors you engaged at the time, they didn't resemble writing in the least. [[Remember the scent]] [[Give up]]

What's the point of this? You came to the city to something, what was it? [[Grab a bite to eat]] [[Meet up with a friend]]

You're joints ache, typically pillows caress and cushion your bones and relieve any strain a normal person's body might encounter. It isn't too late, you can get a few more things done, what else is there to do? [[Grab a bite to eat]] [[Meet up with a friend]]

Ok, think... What number could it be? It can't be a 1 or 5, that's too easy. No one ever picks the smallest or biggest... That leaves 2, 3, 4. You read somewhere that 4 is a bad number in Chinese culture. Now that you remember it you can't pick it. Which number to pick... Didn't some people worship numbers like a thousand years ago? C'mon if you try to pray maybe you'll find the answer. [[Pray to the number gods]] [[Pick 2]] [[Pick 3]]

Stare. "Well, okay young man, have a nice day." It worked. [[Try to remember what you were doing]]

"Young man, why are your fingers in the watch pocket?" "Did you lose your watch? I thought kids these days never carried watches" "Maybe he lost his phone." This is worse than uncool. [[Attempt to speak in a different language]] [[Just stare at them]]

There's a shop at eye level with an advert that reads, "Don't Forget! You'll Never Regret Shopping at Danny's Corset's" It rhymes, the slogan has something going for it. You can't imagine corsets are too popular in a post-Victorian era. Flexible fabrics which stretch at least half their length made from petroleum derived compounds synthesized with names at least seven syllables long and—hold on a moment. The retail store is out of business. The burnt cells of your eyes covered the dust and slow creep of garbage over what might have been decades. [[Wait for your eyes to adjust]] [[Stare at the sun]]

There are no number gods. It was the Pythagoreans. In Ancient Greece there was a school of followers of Pythagoras and they looked for patterns in the universe and tried to relate them to numbers. Then... which number is sacred? It must be 3, it feels the most holy. Or you can give up this charade. [[Pick 3]] [[Tell the blob you can't see]]

On the internet you read that of all the senses, scent is the most strongly linked to memory. That is if you can pair your memory with a scent. If you smell a smell you'll remember the memory! If you remember the memory, you'll remember the scent that went along with it. This is foolproof, smell your surroundings first. *Sniff* What is this? It's putrid, a vile potion of vomit, urine, old shwarma, boy's lockerroom sweat—you can't continue. [[Try to remember what you were doing]]

It's frustrating when you are on the edge of a memory. Like a sneeze that works its way back in right when you are on the cusp of letting it out. There was something you had to do... [[Try to remember what you were doing]] [[Stare at the sun]]

You can't think. It's searing your eyes. You feel a tap on your shoulder, then a push. "Son, are you alright? We don't stare at the sun here" says a blob in a grisly voice. You can make out black monk-strap oxfords. "Uhh..." "Son, can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?" You can't see anything. [[Guess a number]] [[Tell the blob you can't see]] [[Try to stare at the sun again]]

The sun follows a curved path anchoring it atop the city, directly above you. It's better not to look, but the desire is there and you think you can make out a sunspot. You really can't help yourself, you're in a dance with light and its taken the lead. You have myopia, the numbers on your prescription looked like a 5 or 2, but you couldn't make it out and you didn't bother to bring the scrap of paper closer to your view. The paper was crumpled and stuffed into a jean pocket for later. [[Look away]] [[Stare at the sun]] [[Try to remember your prescription]]

"I uhh Mr..." you sputter out. You don't know what to call him. You were supposed to ask for his name or give yours first. Damnit, this is basic human stuff, stop being weird! "I see, well have a good day young man." The problem solved itself. There was something you came to the city to do... What was it? [[Grab a bite to eat]] [[Meet up with a friend]]

You put your hands in your front pockets. Your right hand slipped into a smaller pocket. What is that pocket even for? A pocket watch or loose change? No one ever told you, another way the world didn't prepare your generation. Your middle and ring finger are already in the small pocket, if you keep it in it'll look like it was intended. That's cool right? [[Keep your fingers in the small pocket]]

Several hours ago you were taking the light rail, only a small errand to run but while on the way to the city might as well do something worthwhile. First there was a visit to a paper shop, then to a bookstore. At the paper shop a sale was going on for oversized crepe paper, the texture was dimpled and smooth. Like an hours swim from a beach where the water is calm and quiet. What were you going to do after that? [[Go back home]] [[Grab a bite to eat]] [[Meet up with a friend]]

It was definitely bigger than a 4. You remember the receptionist at the optometrist at the Costco you went for your optometry appointment. A young lady with auburn hair loosely tied, extra scrunchie on her left wrist, made a comment under her breath, "He's so young." The sense of sound you have is acute, it may or may not be because you close your eyes in the park and like to listen to the world play a cacophony of tunes to fill your mind with enough sensory perception to dull yourself to your responsibilities. Then you remember she didn't say that, she said "Hesse, John" saying your last name first and first name last. [[Continue the memory]] [[Return to reality]]

Listening to the blob, you conclude that your quota for social interactions has been met for the day. You decide to continue to do what you did before the interruption and look up at the sun. It's a bit harder since you can't see very much. You decide to look straight up, remembering the general position of the sun. "Hey, what are you doing? Young man, stop that." Another voice now, a different pitch, probably from an elder woman accustomed to advising kids. "What is it that's going on?" "This young man is staring at the sun. Hey! Can you hear me?" "There's something wrong with this young man." You're a bit nervous, you didn't hope to draw a crowd. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. [[Try to play it cool]]

Cars whizz by, filth trails and warm exhaust makes the air taste acrid. Thin plastic bags catch onto tree branches and on parking tolls, the kind that only takes change or credit card. Half the time you swipe your card you worry that somewhere, somehow, the info on your card is caught in transit and sold in the deep dark pits of the web. You still can't see in the centre of your vision, there's a purplish opaque shape. But you can use your periphery to make out a few more details. It appears the shop has an apartment overhead. The blinds glow a faint yellow and the vertical creases of vinyl blinds come closer then further. Is there someone there? Why rent out the living space but refrain from leasing the commercial space? [[Try to remember what you were doing]] [[Walk over to the Corset store]]

Cardboard is taped on the interior of the window. There are more cracks than you first thought, most of the shattered bits are kept together by a thin plastic film and the cracks are filled with filth. Maybe this is how people first constructed homes with bricks and mortar. A large wall made of a single brick would crack, a soft semi-fluid filling could keep some of the brick together, but if the brick was made smaller... You're getting off track. There was something you came to the city to do, what was it? [[Try to remember what you were doing]]