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Bright, early light slithered into the crawlspace.
Something woke there under the dusty rafters.
Stars in its eyes and cotton in its mouth.

Nothing yet stirring, save for the faint breath of life.
Suddenly eyes open, momentarily blind and then aware.
Rustling, shaking in the chill of morning.

Dig through pockets; flicker of a match; puff of smoke.
Everything processed slow and simply, in short bursts.
Slowly the nicotine courses through and stimulates.

Then, without time or hesitation, it came.
The realization of the sheer lack of memory.
And the pain inside now creeping out and into fear.

She came to her feet quickly and yet unsteadily.
Everything warped and new and also terrifying.
A room she had never seen before or would after.

Slowly, in fear of death and pain, but mostly of the unknown.
Slowly through the barely penetrable veil of dark.
Slowly though the only door.

And into the light like a field of gold.
Senses are flooded, heart is alight in warmth.
The fear has gone and has been replaced with joy.

But the light was all there was in this empty place.
It felt good and warm and almost like a home.
However, it would not fill the gap of memory.

With time she would find her way through the light.
She would part gently, and with regret and fear.
But she would part with the knowledge that she was moving forward.

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