I’m not sure what caused me to wake up, but I was in Amelia’s arms. The touch of our naked bodies was the only source of warmth we had. There were no blankets on or under us, but we were on a relatively soft, flat surface. I had no recollection of my immediate past—not where we were nor how or why we got to this place. I solely knew the person whose body held close to mine was my fiancé. We seemed to be in a room of some sort, but we were not in our home. I thought so, anyway.
“My God, babe… What happened?” I asked, tightening my arms around her.
Her already-wrapped arms tightened around me as she stretched.
“Honestly, I don’t remember either. I’ll absolutely take this… this… you,” she breathed, seemingly not bothered by our mutual loss of time nor our surroundings. “I believe it is our responsibility to take full advantage of this situation we’ve found ourselves in.”
She deftly rolled on top of me and we made love. We used several positions, feeling the corners of our physical connection amid soft nonverbal utterings and the din of the human sex cadence. We renewed the depth of our emotional love purposefully and resolutely.
She laid on my chest, seemingly listening to my heart and breath slow as the minutes bled into eternity.
“I literally have no idea where we are, Frank. I mean, seriously—no idea,” she uttered after several minutes.
“Do you see our clothes anywhere?” I asked, rubbing her back.
There was a soft light that slowly grew brighter on the far end of the room.
“I think I see something, yeah. I can’t make out if they are our clothes or not, though,” she replied and slowly removed herself from me.
I watched as she approached the item. She seemed to stop, look back at me and then continue a few times. I could feel my own sense of trepidation rise.
“I think these are your clothes, babe. I’m going to see if I can find a light switch,” she said in the distance.
Well, as soon as she said “light”, a soft light illuminated the room.
Our clothes were scattered all over the room. A bathroom, also mildly illuminated, was on the left side of the room not far from the bed.
So, she gathered her clothes, went into the bathroom, and changed. I followed and did the same. I found toothbrushes and toothpaste and a full complement of other basic human things on the counter. I assumed them to be fair game, as I still had no idea where we were or how we got there—nor whose items these were.
To be clear, I finger-brushed and poured mouthwash into a paper cup from a dispenser out of pure self-preservation from other people’s germs.
“I did too,” she later revealed, smiling.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” I asked.
“No—I think we should go exploring and see what we can find. Up for a little adventure?” she asked, wrapping her arms around me.
“I’ll go with you anywhere you choose to go, my love,” I replied and hugged her tightly.
“Well—though you’ve now made my decision to clothe something I am questioning, we should try and get our memories back,” she suggested and kissed me.
I positioned my arms so I could lift her and stood up, still kissing her. She was all of one-hundred pounds soaking wet, so the challenge was not a big one.
I walked us to the mysterious door and gently set her down.
“Count of three?” she asked happily.
“Go!” I replied and threw open the door.
We were in a large, exceptionally appointed residence. Directly ahead was a sprawling kitchen with an island accented with stools on the one side. To our immediate left was a monstrous stone fireplace with a large sectional couch in front of it. Off in the distance past the kitchen, I saw sets of stairs going up on one side and down on the other. To the right, there was a wall of windows with a set of French doors leading outside. Semi-perpendicular to the doors, there was a dining room table. Past the fireplace on the left, there appeared to be a hallway. It was obvious to me that no one but the two of us was in this house—there were no signs of life anywhere.
“Is any of this looking familiar to you, Amelia? I mean—this is an incredible house, but I have no idea why we are here.” I said as I walked toward the kitchen.
“Nope—I got nothin’,” she replied, looking outside.
“Maybe if we can find our car, something will click. I seriously don’t think anyone is here. I mean—we have a car, right?”
“Good idea! We got here somehow, right? I don’t see anything out this direction. Maybe there is a garage or something downstairs. Up for a bit more exploring?” she asked, taking my hand.
“I’m in. Let’s go!”
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Tim Radle has been writing for most of his life, but published his first book, The Life of Olaf Waniglia in 2017. His next novel is scheduled to be published in early 2021. A graduate of The Ohio State University, Tim’s first love is music. He has been playing guitar since before receiving his first W-2. A close second is woodworking—Tim always has a project in flight. Tim is married with two daughters, a stepdaughter and a stepson. The children are all teenagers, so Tim also enjoys rye bourbon and a good cigar as often as life will allow. Connect with Tim at twitter.com/tradle and medium.com/@timradle_42434.