She felt on the edge the entire trek down the stairs, feeling the tension bunching the muscles of her shoulders into knots. She pursed her full lips as Angelina opened the door that led to the club, and stepped into the past with the women who'd been one of her closest friends that she now no longer knew.
There was no hallelujah of remembrance, as she'd hoped. It was a club, adorned in shades of neon green. It smelled of food and booze, just like any other. The emptiness did not surprise her, it was still quite early. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to will her mind to obey...to lift the curtain and allow her access to the memories behind it.
Angelina's voice, barely controlled, broke her concentration. She looked to the other women's retreating form, one brow arched. Somebody had done something to piss the little brunette off...possibly two somebodies, from the looks of things. She sank to the nearest bar stool, crossing one slender leg over the other as she watched Angelina tear into the couple.
Then Angelina shifted just so, and the man came into view. The snap she felt in her mind was so vigorous she was surprised it wasn't audible...her memory creaking under the weight of so many vaguely familiar sensations. She knew that man. She knew it just as surely as she knew her own name. Well, she knew his face anyway...she could not place his name. She almost stood, wanting to go to him, to encourage the surfacing memory further, but saw Angelina turning back in her direction. So she stayed put, blue eyes locked across the bar. "What is that man's name? I know him. I can feel it...I know him well." She asked Angelina when she returned. She desperately wanted this memory to be born, to nurture it to life until it was able to give her answers.
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