She has no clue that I already live here. I falsely assumed that all the Aunt Jackie meals in the freezer meant this chick can’t cook for fudge, oh how grossly misinformed I was. She’s a goddess who can whip up made-from-scratch in t-minus five minutes. I haven’t had a meal like this since before I regained consciousness in the Inner Belt of Boston, Massachusetts. Five states away from the White House, far away enough that when I regained consciousness I’d never piece together my past. Except the dreams of humping the first lady in the presidential wing constantly plague me. It’s so lucid that I no longer consider it wishful dreaming. When hypothesizing I’ve entertained that this was the reason I have memory loss and am homeless. What kind of cunt drops a dude with amnesia in an industrial area when it’s below freezing at night? They wanted me dead. They didn’t think I’d survive. Whoever ‘they’ are.
