Lost Change

Chapter 9

I couldn't remember how to get inside.

I flew around the house and tried opening the doors, but both were locked. I had a vague memory of a key being kept in a flower pot, but I couldn't actually find any flower pots. I didn't see anything outside the house at all, actually. I wondered if the memory might have been of something that had been so commonly done by other people that it had stuck in my head, rather than something I had done myself, or if something had happened to my flower pot. The other houses in the neighborhood had various items surrounding them despite the obvious damage - only mine was bare.

I did another lap around the house just to make sure... then I found a rock and threw it through the window.

A strange instinct caused me to hover in place for a second, with a vague fear telling me that something was about to happen... but when nothing did, I tucked my wings in close and dove through the jagged hole in the window.

The inside of the house was dark. A bit of starlight filtered in through the windows, but the moon had either still not risen yet or wasn't full tonight, and there just wasn't enough light to see much with. None of the lights were on, and given the state of electricity in the rest of the city, I didn't even bother to try and get them working.

But it was still obvious the house was empty. There was nothing but bare rooms - no furniture, no pictures, no personal possessions. It was as empty as if it had just been built.

I drifted through the rooms, feeling a sense of familiarity as I did. That room had been a bedroom... that was a dining room, with a view of the yard that would let me watch squirrels and small birds while I ate... that was an office room, where my computer would be... the living room should have a large blue couch, with extra comfortable cushions...

I landed on the soft carpet of my empty bedroom and looked around. The voice on the recording had said no one would keep memories, but... I remembered this. I remembered ending days here and sinking into a bed to relax. I couldn't remember what I had done during those days, and I couldn't remember much of what had happened in my house, but I was definitely able to remember some things.

The scientist must have been wrong. I wasn't sure what to do with that, even though it was interesting. Maybe somewhere out there the other dragonets had kept their memories, or at least more of them, and were doing something useful with them. If they really were out there. But the fragments of memory didn't do me much good.

I looked around the dark room and tried to remember more details... but other than a vague idea about a dresser that should be in one corner, nothing came to mind.

The lack of furniture and belongings... actually didn't bother me that much, not when I thought about it. Whatever had happened to me must have taken place some time back. My stuff had probably just been sent to a relative when the bank or landlord missed too many payments. That was what happened when someone disappeared, wasn't it? Maybe even auctioned off. I had a vague sense that the loss of all my stuff should upset me... but I couldn't really remember any of it. It probably would have felt more disturbing if I had come back to a familiar place only to find it full of things that I knew must have been important, but which I no longer had any memory of.

I suddenly felt weary on multiple levels. I had flown a bit, and despite how good it felt, my wings still weren't used to too much demand yet. A nap wouldn't hurt. I flew into the bedroom, then yawned and stretched out on the soft carpet covering the floor.

I spent a few minutes sprawled in the middle of the room, feeling a strange draw of memory that told me this was where I came when it was time to sleep... but sleep wouldn't come. I was very tired, but... I was also...