keep it secret, keep it safe

I walk down a hall.

Cinderblocks box me in.

Rough and callous beneath my fingertips.

I do not know why I am here,

I can not see a purpose.

Yet, I continue to walk, hoping.

Soon I begin to smell smoke

and panic rises in my chest.

How will I get out?

But, then I soon realize it is a scent memory.

Laughter, a single acoustic guitar, old hymns sung out of tune.

I am a child.

Marshmallows are burnt and making my fingers sticky.

But, each lick is so satisfying.

My mother encourages me to place my marshmallow between crackers and chocolate making what she calls a s'more.

All I know is that she is right. 

After this first one... I will want s'more.

The rough, callous surface turns smooth.

The smoke disappears.

I am again captivated in memory.

Street lights, patterns, "as surely as the sun", insomnia.

I am fourteen.

I am restless, awake.

But, I am scared.

I am scared to move, to wake the beast.

The surface is again, rough.

I awake.

I am twenty, no longer asleep.

My thoughts exactly as they are, a memory.

As dark turns to dusk I am discouraged.

Next time, will I awake?