Thoughts roll through my brain as I try to conjure up memories. But they’re not memories that come to the forefront of my mind. They’re just names of things that I know, or at least I think I know. Like states. Wisconsin. Illinois. New York. Then I think of animals. Dog. Cat. Cow. I glance around the room, noting the things I see. Chair. Bed. Flowers. TV. Hot guy. Funny girl. Doctor.
