It’s not that it was difficult to breathe in that moment. Breathing came in shallow, automatic gasps – a sound that barely reached the ear. There must have been snow around but that particular detail is long gone from his memory. All that remains are the smudged shadows of people walking past while he stood still and thought for the first time in the last months that everything he based his future on was gone.
Men are corruptible by a mere vision of a warm hearth and it rarely matters whether it is found between woman’s things or between crumbling pages of a poetic book. And he was so very corrupted at that moment; any otherwise obvious loss of identity was met with a cold shrug and a friendly, naive nod. He didn’t care. But now that not caring moment was over. As the pained vibrations of his own muffled sounds reached his consciousness, he counted slowly to ten and then once again. He retraced his actions from the time he remembered waking up.
He didn’t put much effort into thinking about this particular day then or ever since. All that was important about that memory was what was gone. And since it was gone, he did not remember.