“Staring? At- wha...?” He thought to himself, feeling very self-conscious, [i]Is it my nose? I know I have a funny nose...[/i] John whipped his head around, as if someone was looking at him this very moment. There was no one, though, so he continued listening to Kaden, slightly alarmed by the feral look in his eyes. 

[b]"But I guess it'd be different for you, wouldn't it? I don't know what to tell you, goldfish,"[/b] 

John cast his eyes downward; he could feel his face burning. He couldn't tell if Kaden was joking in a friendly way or a mean way, and that was half the embarrassment. Well, then he probably shouldn't have bothered Kaden with his babbling in the first place anyway, so feeling like a fish out of water was his own fault. Kaden was still talking, but John was distracted by the sinking feeling in his chest.

[b]“...You find something real, something that makes you think something's really happening, let me know, and I'll see what I can do. Got nothin' else to occupy me after all." [/b]

“Sure...I-I...gotta make chips.” John stammered out and excused himself from the table, retreating to the back of the bar and into the kitchen, hoping that it would be quieter there. He passed through the rest of the bar quickly, not noticing the old man. Once he got into the actually quite roomy kitchen, he scrubbed his hands clean and started up the fryer. John's skin crawled with goosebumps as he stood there, so he hugged himself slightly, though it didn't help much. He wasn't sure why he felt so off today. As he stared straight ahead, his eyes began to glaze over as he hummed one of the other songs he knew by heart on piano. The doc knew what song it was and gave John the some of the lyrics for it, just so he could sing along if he wanted, but he never did. The song was nice enough. He thought of those lyrics as his mind wandered, standing there humming an ages old tune. 

[i]–
His hand twitched and his eyes fluttered open. The white sky unfolded above him. The cold damp snow glittered around his sprawled limbs, some of which were bent in odd directions. 

[b]Are you going to Scarborough Fair...[/b]

He didn't dare try to move his body even if he could. There wasn't any pain, just the biting cold. His senses were returning at a sluggish pace as he blinked away some snowflakes that had fallen on his eyelashes.

[b]parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme...[/b]

He was in a ditch. But, more importantly, he didn't know who he was. Or where he was. Or when he was. Or if he even [b]was[/b]; perhaps this was a dying dream. 

[b]remember me to the one who lives there...[/b]

The man's heart pounded thickly but slowly in his chest. He heard a rumbling sound in the distance grow closer, pass him, slow down and stop. Then a muffled thud. The man closed his eyes; he didn't want to know what it was. He just wanted to sleep. The last thing he heard was a voice, “Oh...Christ...are you okay, mate?”

[b]for she was once a true love of mine...[/b]
–[/i]

John snapped out of his stupor and clapped his hands together loudly, shouting, “Oh! 'Brewing'! Not 'bubbling'!” That was the word he'd been trying to think of while talking to Kaden, it came to him out of the blue. John rubbed his hands together, dumped some chips into the fryer basket and lowered it into the now rolling oil. New word; today was getting better.