The damn alarm went off at its normal time, and once again, I hit the snooze button at the normal time. Usually I'd hit it three times before dragging myself out of bed, but this morning was different. As I rolled over, unanticipated pain shot up my arm. I noticed it was in a plaster cast from my hand to an inch or two below my elbow.

When did I break my arm? And how could I not remember breaking it?

I stared at my arm, trying my hardest to remember how I broke it. No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't remember.

I discovered a text from school, alerting me of the school closure. I hadn't been this happy for a snow day since I was a kid. Now I had time to figure out what happened to my arm. As I scanned through my phone, I hoped to trigger my memories. I remembered talking to the crazy old cat lady yesterday after she fell. Then what happened?

Despite the pain in my arm, the idea of getting out of bed didn't exhaust me and the depression and anger were practically nonexistent. I wasn't full of dread. Well-rested with an indescribable peace in my heart, I was both content and sexually satisfied, something I hadn't experienced in a long time. Sitting up, I scratched the back of my head, desperately trying to remember something, anything.

My body felt like I'd just had a long night of incredible sex. His scent lingered on my body. I could still feel him. I flung my covers off the bed, trying to figure out if we did it here or some place else. I found no evidence that a man had been in my bed.

I staggered to the window to get a glimpse at the snowy winter wonderland outside. I'd been shoveling the crazy old cat lady's driveway and walkway for three years, so I was surprised to see that her walkway had already been cleared. As I took a step, I tripped and stumbled to the floor. "Son of a bitch," I muttered. A worn out brown leather briefcase lay on the floor by the bed, a stupid place to leave it.

When did I buy a brown briefcase? I always stored my lesson plans in my cheap black briefcase that I left at my kitchen table with my laptop. I opened the brown briefcase to find faded loose papers. The papers looked a hundred years old. The handwriting was in cursive, the ink also faded and smudged.

This briefcase was strangely familiar. Someone gave this to me, but who? Desperate for a cup of coffee, I left the briefcase on my bedroom floor and went to the kitchen. My laptop was still running, my black briefcase placed haphazardly on the floor. An empty beer bottle sat beside the laptop.

With the snow coming down hard, I decided to get dressed and check on my neighbor to make sure she had everything she needed, like food and heat.

Bits and pieces of information from the day before came back to me. For one, I promised myself to get the crazy old cat lady's name when I got home so I'd stop calling her the crazy old cat lady.

... when I got home...

From where?

If I had any common sense, I would have gone to the hospital to have my arm checked out since I had no clue how badly I'd broken it.

But I was stupid and chose not to go.

I frantically searched my room for my watch, the one my sister gave me with the rainbow wristband. I always kept it plugged in on the nightstand, but it wasn't there this morning. I must have hit my head when I fell and broke my arm.

Giving up on finding my watch, I put on my winter gear and headed across the street.

After ten minutes, my neighbor came to the door. "Oh, Eric, you're back!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to see you!" She acted like I'd been on a long trip. "Please come in."

"No, it's okay. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay."

"Everything is perfect. Please come in, Eric. I want to hear all about your trip."

By now, I knew I'd gone somewhere, but I had no idea where. I couldn't say no to a nice old lady and stepped into the house. "Do you know that we've been neighbors for three years and I don't know your name?" I said, removing my boots.

"Millie Maillet," she answered. "Please call me Millie."

"Okay, Millie. I would have shoveled for you. You don't have to pay anyone."

"Oh, I didn't pay anyone. My grandson's staying with me. Isn't that exciting?"

"Grandson?" I didn't know she had kids or grandkids, but I didn't know much about her.

"Yes. Sit down. I'll make hot cocoa. It's a perfect day for hot cocoa, isn't it?"

"Yeah, perfect."

"Take off your coat and stay awhile. Oh, dear, what happened to your arm?" she asked as I removed my coat.

"I broke it. I can't remember how," I said.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little, but I'll live."

As Millie shuffled away with her walker, I wandered around the living room. Dolly, the ginger cat, curled up on the couch. Yesterday, I didn't pay much attention to the inside of Millie's house, only noticing the clutter and the cats. Photos and various paintings hung on the walls. On the mantle above her fireplace, I picked up a large black and white picture, one of the many family portraits. Everyone in the photo looked oddly familiar. My eyes gravitated to a young man in the photo. He had smiling, playful eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Millie jolted me back to reality, returning with a tray of cookies and hot cocoa. "That's the last photo of us all together. George had just come home. Hmm... let me think... it was 1938 or 1939... before they left for the war. Two went to Japan, one went to Germany. Two came home and one didn't. It's a nice photo, isn't it?"

Holding it, I sat on the couch. "Which one didn't come home, if you don't mind me asking?"

Millie hobbled towards me, her steps slow and labored. "That one," she said, pointing to the young man with the unruly hair and playful eyes. He stood between two other young men with a smaller boy in front of him. There were four young women and a smaller girl beside the young boy. I assumed Millie was the little girl. "That's Teddy. He was always so silly. There's a reason our mother called him a monkey. And that's George and Jimmy. They both got married. George had three kids; Jimmy had six. We come from a big family. I was one of eleven."

"Eleven? Wow! Did Teddy go to Japan or Europe?"

"Teddy stormed the beaches of Normandy. At least that's what we were told. We all missed him so much. Family arguments weren't the same without him."

Three mugs of cocoa, instead of two, sat on the tray. "My grandson should be joining us. He just woke up."

I sipped the hot cocoa, continuing to stare at the photo, focused on Teddy.

"Oh, there he is!" Millie exclaimed as a man entered the dining room. Bleary-eyed, his brown hair disheveled and sticking up everywhere, he stood with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "This is my neighbor, Eric. Eric, this is my grandson, Teddy. He's named after my brother. He looks just like him, doesn't he?"

Teddy and I locked eyes for a few moments. "Have we met?" he asked with a yawn, rubbing his unshaven face.

"I... um... I don't think so," I said. This young man had the same playful eyes and messy hair as the young man in the black and white photo.

"Have a seat on the couch, Teddy. Eric won't bite. Eric's a high school history teacher," Millie said, acting like she was trying to set us up. I was touched and amused by the gesture. Teddy barely made eye contact with me as he picked up a cookie and mug of hot cocoa before sitting on the other end of the couch. Dolly, the cat, sat between us.

"You look so familiar," I repeated. "Did we go to school together?"

"Lowell High?"

"No... college."

"I never went to college."

"But he should have gone," Millie said. "He's smart enough... like you."

"You could still go," I said. "You're not that old."

"You don't think thirty-one is too old?"

"Are you kidding me?" I said. "Thirty-one's not too old."

"That's what I keep telling him," Millie said. "Things are different nowadays." Holding on to her walker, Millie stood back up. "I hope you don't mind, boys, but I think I'll lie down for a bit. I'll let you two get reacquainted."

What did she mean by 'reacquainted?' We'd never met before.

Or had we? I was losing my mind... again.

Slightly uncomfortable, Teddy and I shifted in our seats. Teddy reached for the cookies and handed one to me. "I've never seen so many cats in one house before," he said, sniffing as if he had a bad cold.

"How are you managing?" I couldn't resist talking to a cute guy.

"Not great, to be honest." Teddy abruptly sneezed hard into his hands. Sniffing, he removed a wad of tissues from the pocket of his hoodie. His nose was red and raw, his eyes watery. "I'm allergic to these damn cats. Millie... I mean, Nana gave me medication, but it doesn't work. It just makes me go to sleep. It's so good to talk to someone. It's just been me and Nana for the past three days." This man examined me closely in between bites of cookie. "I swear we've met before."

"Yeah, it's weird."

"How'd you break your arm?"

"I don't remember. I think I slipped and fell on black ice. I can't find any hospital reports, so I have no idea which doctor slapped this cast on me. I feel like I have amnesia."

"I think I have amnesia, too. I can't remember how I got here. A taxi cab dropped me off in front of this house. I haven't seen that taxi since."

"A taxi cab, huh? That's funny. There's an urban legend around here that claims a taxi takes people where they need to go and not where they want to go. You don't see a lot of taxis around here. People use Uber or Lyft."

"Have you seen the taxi?"

I shrugged. A part of me vaguely recalled a yellow taxi cab parked down the dark street.

"What's that mean? Have you or haven't you seen it?"

"I can't remember. I think I hit my head when I fell and broke my arm."

"What did you say your name is again?" Teddy asked.

"Eric."

"Eric what?"

"Gagnon."

Teddy's body stiffened as he chewed the last bit of cookie. "I need a drink," he sighed. "A strong one."

"It's nine in the morning."

"Oh, yeah, it's too early. I need some air." He placed his empty mug on the tray and headed to the door, ready to walk outside in his socks.

"Wait, Teddy. You forgot your boots."

He leaned against the wall as he put on his boots. In only his hoodie, he stormed out of the house, leaving his boots untied. I followed him, wondering where he was going. He was the only person on the street, plowing through the snow. Out of breath, he stopped at the top of the street. He threw his arms in the air, collapsing in the snow.

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