A little farther down the road I’d reached a single-pump service station with a store that had a bright, wooden Jim’s General & Deli sign on the door. Perched above it on the front of the roof was a giant, weathered plastic sculpture of a fish my brain somehow identified as a sturgeon. Another sign near the door caught my eye, some company proclaiming they offered the best fishing charters in Maryland. Maryland. Instinct combined with logic told me that’s where I was, although I didn’t know how I felt so certain, or why I somehow also knew this wasn’t where I belonged. I looked around. Two cars were parked out front, one with a teardrop trailer attached to the back. Great. I knew the species of a plastic fish and what kind of trailer this was but couldn’t remember my own name or what I was doing in Maryland. There had to be some comedic value in that—too bad I couldn’t find it. I shook my head, immediately regretting the gesture because of the sharp stabbing pain it caused in the side of my skull.

Staying low, I crept to the vehicles. My immediate and not particularly brilliant plan was to find water, clothes and shoes before retreating someplace else, getting warm and figuring out what to do next, but as I got closer to the trailer, I’d noticed the Maine number plate on the back. Black-capped chickadee. Pine cone. The word Vacationland.

A jumble of pictures flashed through my mind. An old house. Twinkling, star-shaped lights. The sound of laughter. As I tried to grasp the fragments they retreated into the corners of my mind, disappearing from reach. Had I remembered something from my past?

More bewildered than before, I stumbled around the side of the trailer. With shaky fingers I reached for the handle, my mouth dropping in surprise when the door opened. I climbed in, groaning as I got out of the wind at last, until the pungent smell of a lemon air freshener dangling next to the window smuggled its way up my nose, making me retch. I looked around the compact space, took in the kitchenette, fully made-up bed, white bathroom complete with toilet, sink and shower, and the small seating area that had a padded bench and cat-print cushions. My legs wanted to walk the rest of my body to the bed and make it collapse there, but I refused. Drink. Clothes. Shoes. Those were what I’d come for.