The Fuse Part I

I remember everything. I remember nothing.

     Beads of wet condensation slide down the big window of a nondescript concrete walled room.  The thick sheets of moisture make it seem like the room is a hundred degree sauna.  Like a mirror after a hot shower, the glass is opaque with the steamy mist and dew of condensation.
     All that's there is an aluminum table, two aluminum chairs.  The chairs sit across from each other and a posture perfect, thirty something, attractive woman in business attire sits across from a lazily sitting, shaved headed man somewhere in his twenties.  The woman looks intently at her mark in the man's face, the man peers disjointedly into the molecules of air floating around the room as if an intense stare into nothingness will make everything clearer.


What do you remember?

What do I remember?

What do you remember.

I remember everything.  I remember my elementary school, Mira Monte.    I remember my middle school, Canyon Hills.  I remember my high school, Burgess.  I remember the first time I smoked a cigarette, that secret spot hidden by shrubs under the freeway.  I remember the first time I got drunk, on the roof of Michelle's house.  I rememb-

I was hoping to hear something more recent.

I remember my address, apartment number thirteen oh five seventy six hundred west Manchester.  I remember the faces of every single one of my co-workers: Ryan, Kyle, Angel, Juan, Jeff, Steven, Alex.  I remember what I ate for lunch that day: a turkey sandwich, an orange, pretzels, and a granola bar.  I remember the wood chipper breaking down.  I remember the sound of  chainsaws.  I remember the smell of sage and fennel.  I remember dragging branches and limbs into piles.  I remember the sun hitting me through my safety glasses.  I remember the sweat making my long sleeve shirt wet.  I remember the branches gouging holes through my jeans.  I remember my gloves being covered in sap.  I remember my hardhat being a little too tight.  I remember my boots being a tiny bit loose.
I remember looking up into the impeccably blue sky and then I remember nothing.  I remember being here in the park and the sound of children.
That's what I remember.  That's all I remember.  I don't know how I got from there to here, I don't know who brought me from there to here, I don't know what motivated me to go from there to here, I don't remember how long it took to get from there to here, I don't remember deciding that here is better than there.  I don't even remember darkness.  I don't remember anytime passing from there to here and yet I'm here and away from there.

You really don't remember eight hundred miles of travel?

I would tell you if I did, I wish to f*****g god I did.

I'm not the first one to question you and yet this is the first time you've talked about your "life" before appearing here in.  Did your memories come back or were they in your brain the whole time?

I never didn't know.  Everything leading up to that afternoon on the worksite and everything since opening my eyeballs in this damn town is and was clear as day.  The reason I pretended I didn't is...well my mind was in an interesting place...

And now you're back to normal?

I wouldn't say that.  Now I'm just looking for some help.

Author's Note

Interrogationnn.
Any tips on making things clearer or any critiques on anything is very much welcomed.

Reviews

[H L Rose]

I found this intriguing. I really like the language the man uses. It’s poetic nature makes it more interesting.
As far as making it clear, I do have a few suggestions.
In the second paragraph, when the women says “intently at her mark”, that line seems a bit confusing to me. Perhaps tweaks the wording.
Also, the piece starts out in what seems like an interrogation room, but then the man says he was “here in the park” and at the end the women says “here in”. So I am a little confused as to where it is taking place, or if the man has been taken from the park into the interrogation room.
The writing over all was very interesting, and I am curious about where it will go.