Its an interesting thing; memory. It can fail you in the most convenient of times. Like now, for instance. I wish I could say I had some sort of neurological problem, but Im afraid its PTSD. It tends to force memories from you, whether you want it or not. Not the most beneficial of habits.
Weather tells me its late; about twelve. Late and cold and wet. I should be home, and yet, there seems to be a sort of comfort about being here. Maybe I know someone, there are many other children, looking slightly less lost. I look around, some friends of my younger brothers, but no one Im particularly close to. Familiarity seems scarce.
Its still raining. Heading home would be a logical step, but something seems to hold me back. Nostalgia? Maybe. It feels like a big wave just hit me. Someone appears memorable, but I cant tell. Its too dark.