Seven minutes past the hour, a silent knocking revives my sanity. After staring motionless into the distant, fading, tearing wallpaper I have sanctified, I look up. I see a droplet of rain fall down from the ceiling. A leak. The knocking continues. I decide its best to answer the knocking. But how does one answer the knocking? And so I let myself walk over to the front door and stand still. The knocking grew louder, and I knew I was close. I heard a muffled noise, and I took the doorknob by its head. Breaking the doorknobs neck, I feel as if this is the right thing to do. And before I could do anything else, I was pushed backwards to the direction of a wooden table.
"What are you doing Fletcher. What on Earth are you doing!" the lady screamed. I attempted to rise from the ground when the lady gave me her hand. "Fletcher this is... this is... what are you doing! You haven't left the house for three days. What are you doing!"
Fletcher. Fletcher. Is that a name? Is that me? What am I doing? And that's when I look down to the floor and see twenty knives scattered around me. "I don't know what..."
"I know, I know. Your illness is scaring me. I don't know what to do. I don't..."
"Please, don't worry about me. I suppose I just dropped my silverware tray..."
"This is insane, you could've gotten hurt. You look like you just noticed these. Fletcher, you need to see a doctor. You need help. You can't seem to remember anything."
And I can't, I realize. I will probably forget Fletcher is my name tomorrow. Is it my name? "I don't need help," I gulped. I couldn't catch my swallow so I tried again. Sweat formed on my brow. "I'm fine. I'm alright, just a little accident. You have accidents don't you? It was a spill. A silly little spill. Yes a knock-over." And I stopped mumbling for a bit. I heard a sound out of the window. The lady heard it too, because she averted her gaze in my direction and found herself by the window. A figure was stopped in front of the sign outside my house, and it had been faintly yelping. As we watched outside, the figure turned around and started walking. This had been going on for quite awhile now. The figure would walk to the sign, and walk back. I didn't know where it was going or who or what it was. "Poor thing. To do this every day."
"What?" The lady looked up with disbelief.
"I said the creature does this every day" I answered politely.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I watch him every day"
"So you're saying you remember watching him before?"
"Of course that's what I'm saying" The volume of my voice is raised a bit.
"You remembered! Your memory Fletcher! It's coming back!"
"It must be! If you can remember that! What else do you remember?"
"Nothing at all. Just the figure in the night."
"This is a miracle. A miracle Fletcher!" She left dancing out the door while I resumed my position on the chair watching the marvelous wallpaper.
Who was that lady? I thought. What is Fletcher? Who am I?