*Note-this is a continuation of a story I wrote awhile ago for a different but similar prompt. This will be stand alone, but it will make more sense if you look up the original in my profile*

Melissa stroked the grey hair of the elderly woman shivering in the bed in front of her. “I don’t remember…” she muttered as her eyes blinked twice and closed.

“Get some rest, Hellen,” Melissa cooed as the woman fell asleep.

Standing up, Melissa sighed and shuffled across a cramped, bare room with 3 beds full of sleeping patients into a kitchen. Sitting down at a small crooked wooden table, she pulled a cracked wooden bowl and small notebook across the table. She took a bite of stew made from small red, green, and blue fruit, which she ate every day for all 3 meals over the last two years.

Two small children slept in a large mattress on the floor of a room with no door at the other end of the walkthrough kitchen. Melissa looked at them and sighed before turning back to the bowl. Taking a few bites, she noted again that the texture was almost exactly like chilli made with real meat and beans, but without the flavor and spices that they could not afford.

Flipping through the pages of the notebook, she scratched her head when she reached the final page: it was full of notes from yesterday. Another sigh escaped her lips as she flipped the notebook over to start taking notes on the back of all the pages, and began to write.

“It’s been nearly two years since Thomas traded his mind for these this never ending supply of food,” Melissa wrote. “It’s kept us alive, but has done nothing else for us. I couldn’t even convince him to stay with us for a free bed and hot meal… but he isn’t far.”

The apartment rattled as a space shuttle sped past and Melissa looked up as dust fell from the ceiling where a large crack had formed. Rain dropped through the crack as it steadily tapped on the roof, but Melissa returned to her notebook.

“A fortune teller and cat-like drug dealer called a Khezal have informed me that the answer I’m looking for is closer than it appears and that the Fyuqlage fruit the Quixat traders gave me has unique ‘medicinal’ qualities, respectively. I can’t afford many more ingredients, but I’m hoping that adding some of the blue and green Fyuqlage fruits to the concoction that the herbalist recommended yesterday will have some effect. I”

Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning, crash of thunder and loud creak as Hellen sat up in her bed. “Manny!” Helen shouted. “Where is manny?”

Jumping from the table, Melissa rushed across the room as the other two patients began to stir. The elderly woman’s silvery hair flew about as she looked from side to side in a panic. Her eyes locked with Melissa’s and widened.

“Hellen,” Melissa called out nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“Manny,” Hellen mumbled. “Manny is gone!”

“Who is manny?”

Hellen paused and narrowed her eyes at Melissa before responding, “I don’t know…”

“Do you know who I am?” Melissa asked, clutching one of Hellen’s frail and cold hands in both of her own.

“Yes, Melissa, I could never forget you,” Hellen said with a smile spreading across her face.

“Why don’t you remember who Manny is?”

“I…” the smile faded from Hellen’s face. “Manny isn’t here…”

“No, he isn’t,” Melissa confirmed as confusion and fear spread across Hellen’s face. “I don’t know Manny. Can you tell me about him?”

“Manny is…” Hellen started, before her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed back into bed.

“Hellen?” Melissa cried, rushing to check for a pulse on the frail woman’s wrist.

As soon as she felt Hellens pulse, the man in the second bed complained, “I don’t care who Manny is, as long as her insufferable racket stops so I can sleep.”

“Charles, there is no need to be unkind when Hellen is clearly unwell,” Melissa snapped.

“Clearly she is! My daughter would never carry on like that at an hour such as this,” Charles scoffed.

“Your daughter?” Melissa questioned, her face softening as she leaned forward towards the tall skinny old man with a white mustache. “Do you remember your daughter Charles?”

“Remember my daughter? What kind of father would I be if I forgot my own daughter! I’ve told you about Sylvia before though.”

“I don’t believe you have… but please do tell me more about her!” Melissa scrambled to Charles’ bed and pulled a wooden stool out from the wall to sit next to the grumpy man.

“Sylvia was a brilliant child! She…” Charles’ voice trailed off. “She was…”

Suddenly, Charles doubled over, as if dead. Melissa swiftly checked that he also had a pulse and scratched her head. Looking from Hellen to Charles, a deep frown spread across her face. Soft snores reassured her that Charles was alive, but she shook her head anyway.

“That just leaves you, Annalise, do you remember anything?” Hellen asked the plump woman in the bed closest to the kitchen. However, Annalise was fast asleep.

Thinking for a moment, Melissa bounded back into the kitchen and snatched up her notebook. Frantically, she wrote about her encounter with Charles, Hellen and their new memories. She also copied the recipe for the last meal each ate, as if it might have disappeared from her notes the day before, and made a list of questions she wanted to ask her patients when then awoke.

“Finally, I’ve found a way to help you, Thomas,” Melissa whispered to herself as she prepared for bed. Laying down with her children, she sat up all night in anticipation of the morning when she could talk to Hellen and Charles more.

***

“What do you want?” Thomas muttered at the tall vaguely familiar women who stood over him as he came to in an alley between two bars. He rolled over from one rancid smelling trash bag to another that was softer and smelled slightly less rotten then swatted a few flies away from his ear.

Thomas peered up at the woman and narrowed his eyes in frustration. Something about her was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. She occasionally would give him food, which was bland, but much better than the half eaten take out meals he ate out of dumpsters. It was difficult for him to hold a job, on account of the pain in his head that flaired up when he tried to remember his past.

The condition affected more than just Thomas. This part of town had more beggars with missing memories than actual residents. Alleys like the one Thomas lived it looked like they were filled with trash that moved on its own, but it was actually just people like him who were indistinguishable from the dump they were squatting in.

“Did you bring anything to eat?” Thomas croaked

“Yes!” Melissa squealed while quickly pulling a bowl of stew from a bag she carried on her arm.

As her trembling hands offered the bowl to Thomas, his eyes narrowed. “What is in this?” he questioned at the jittery woman with a grin plastered on her face.

“It’s just stew,” Melissa assured him as he smile wavered and whole body shook.

Scratching his head, Thomas studied the woman. She looked tired but excited and quite beautiful. Her eyes were sparkling and locked with his, sparking the feeling that she was somehow familiar once again. As a splitting pain made his head pound, he pushed away all of his thoughts and accepted the warm stew.

Pouring the entire bowl into his hungry mouth, Thomas realized that the stew quickly extinguished the pounding in his head. With a sigh of relief, Thomas exclaimed, “Thank you, Melissa, I feel much better!”

“Thomas,” Melissa cried, “Do you remember me?”

Thomas stared at her, with the pain in his head gone his eyes studied her again. Then, before he could say anything, Thomas collapsed in the alley and blacked out.