Chapter 2: A Start

As far as remembering went, the files in the bag were of no help whatsoever. Which was somewhat confusing since it contained everything about me. My preschool certificate, elementary school certificate, college degree, and even a picture of me and four others whom I didn't recognise.

At least now I knew I didn't fall out of the sky, but it didn't necessarily tell me what I needed to do.

"Aren't you going to eat your breakfast?" Granny asked, snapping me out of the daze.

"Yeah, sorry, I will. I was just thinking about the files I went through last night." I sighed, stabbing a piece of bacon.

"It will be fine. At least, you aren't a wanted terrorist." She joked.

"Right." I chuckled. "With a degree in criminology, that would be bad."

"I think a walk around town would do you some good. Just don't go around asking strangers if they know you." She advised.

"I would, but it's probably not a good idea to go sightseeing in rumpled clothes or pyjamas." I replied staring down at my getup.

My clothes from yesterday smelled of mud and grass, which made it an unideal outfit until I ran them through the laundry properly.

"I can let you wear some of my grandson's clothes. They only ever left that wardrobe on laundry days, this would be putting them to good use." Sje suggested.

"Are you sure you are okay with that?" I asked, almost choking on my food.

"If last night was anything, it was a sign to move on from the past I cling so desperately to. This might very well be the first step." She said with a sigh.

"Thank you, I will try to pay you back for everything." I nodded.

"Perhaps, ask around for a job so you can start paying rent." She chuckled.

Thought I could tell she didn't mean it, but I nodded in agreement.

It's safe to say her grandson had a unique taste in clothing. His wardrobe screamed 'luxury vintage collection'

"Your grandson definitely dressed to impress." I murmured.

"Yeah, Dennis said he liked serving old money looks." Granny shrugged.

"I see." I missed as I browsed the wardrobe.

"Well, I am off to visit my friend at the elder's home in town. I won't be long, but I will leave you a spare key just in case you come home before I do." She explained, leaving me to get dressed.

I eventually settled for one outfit with a brown coat on it.

When I was satisfied with my look in the mirror, I made my way downstairs. Granny had already left, but she left me a note on the table with a spare key as well.

"I know your amnesia has you down, but have a little fun before coming back home."

I smiled as I folded the note into a pocket in the coat and made my way outside.

It would have been a bummer if in my amnesia, I had forgotten how to use a phone. I would have gotten lost after the first turn if I hadn't already marked the house's location.

"First things first, getting familiar with the environment." I thought.

The cash I found in my bag should last me a couple of months if managed properly, and I would most likely have a job before it runs out. So, I hailed a taxi heading to the centre of the city.

Call it fate or pure coincidence, but I arrived right in the middle of a young man leading a group of people to a tour bus.

"Not a bad way to start." I shrugged, grabbing a tourist ID.

The tour guide stood next to the driver, pointing out important structures as we drove past them. Apparently, the city of Lindin was named after one of the founding fathers of the Country, Lindin Febrs.

Soon after its establishment, it became a bustling hub of entrepreneurship and tourist attractions. The later decades, however, were when it became a force to be reckoned with following the arrival of prominent businessman Kirk Tartan, who had some weird obsession with museums.

Just a week after he arrived, he commissioned two museums: the Lindin Memorial Museum of Ancient History and the Twins Art Museum.

We drove around the city for a while, listening to the tour guide explain the history of the city and the origin of its monuments. There was the hand of Mephate, a huge stone hand holding a quill pointed at the sky, rumoured to have been the hand of a primordial god of creativity.

According to the tour guide, the god had left his hand pointing to the sky as a reminder to creative minds that there existed no limit to their prowess. He said and I quote:

"After all, what's the sky if not the stepping stone to a higher level of creativity?"

At that point, I couldn't help but, scoff.

"Is there a problem?" The tour guide asked, his hazel eyes narrowed at me.

"None from me." I chuckled, raising my hand in surrender.

"Let me guess, you aren't a man of myths." He sighed, adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah, I am a man of facts and evidence." I replied with a smirk.

Of course, just try not to ruin the tour for the rest of us, please." He sighed.

Disappointment settled in my chest as I had expected more of a fight from him, but I apparently wasn't worth the effort.

Eventually, the tour came to an end. The bus was parked next to a bar with a neon light signboard "The Tavern".

"Thanks for coming, everyone. I hope you all had a good time." The tour guide smiled, giving a graceful bow.

Smiles filled the crowd as their hands came together in applause. They handed in their tourist ID before heading off in various groups.

"I am going to need that back." The tour guide said, nodding at my tourist ID.

"Right, here you go." I replied, taking it off.

As I handed it in, I caught a glimpse of his own ID card pinned against his shirt.

Theron Wilson.

Sociology And Anthropology Department.

Colgate University, Lindin, UC.

"What's a university staff member doing giving tours to tourists? University's a little low on funds?" I asked, feeling amused.

"What's a man of facts doing on a tour of mythical areas? Your life a little low on happiness?" He shot back.

The smile on my face vanished as I struggled for words to get back at him. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to have anything more to say to me as he hailed a taxi and took off.

"Fucking tour guide." I hissed as I turned to enter the bar.