in-amnesiac

It was like any other day, only lively.

As he treaded along with an air of contentment, the fire disappeared far on the horizon and orange took over. Dusk descended. So did a blow that blind-sided him. What sent him reeling did lesser harm, he gathered, as his gaze wandered and came to rest on the source - all too familiar and all too close.

He looks out the window, as he recoils from the blow. At every orange and every dusk he waits for another, only hoping that it's not familiar. It'll be alright, they say, even as they throw away the club. A scarred faith tells him otherwise.

Even as he now treads along with an air of disillusionment, "life goes on, yea, la la la life goes on! Ob-li-di! Ob-li-da".