He’d been walking on a sidewalk, going up a hill, when a passing van’s music blasted him.
He knew that song — rock, yes — but his mind refused to give up the song’s title or the band’s name. Even more of the song was denied him. The same seven seconds kept swirling through his mental music stream.
It was going to tear up his mind. He needed to find enough to remember it or look it up. Based on his current rate of remembering, it’d probably be sometime on Friday or Saturday before he remembered.
Michael Seidel, writer 
Leave a comment