I have, on occasion, unintentionally come into contact with pieces of information regarding my disappearance from Memphis, and the lingering questions over what exactly to do with my rather large insurance disbursement.

At first, there were more questions about my disappearance than the money. Now it seems that the money is all anyone is concerned with.

Which is, in many ways, indicative of the state of the world.

There should be no great mystery about my motivation to abandon my former life. There was no scandal or knives in the dark.

If fact, it was a rather simple thing that made me change the course of my life. One day I had cause to step out of my house in my bare feet – chasing a dog away from my flower beds or some such nonsense.

I could not believe how much it hurt to do this. As a boy, I used to run barefoot across the roughest ground, forgoing shoes all summer if my mother let me.

My life of fine leather shoes and plush carpets over hardwood floors had made my feet soft; made me soft.


I merely felt that needed to change, so I left it all behind.

Memphis Note
I came across a newspaper clipping from the 1880s about an affluent man that disappeared one night. No one knew if he was the victim of a random crime or disappeared because of some dark secret. I think I prefer my answer to the other two more plausible, but much more depressing, options.

Countless squares of shattered glass were scattered across the asphalt. Like seeds thrown to barren earth where they can never take root. Under her feet the glass ground against the pavement and cut into her flesh.

Where was her shoe?

Wind whistled in her ears, but she couldn’t feel it on her face. Everything was loud, roaring, screaming, but she couldn’t make any of it out. Cupping her hand to her ear, she found it wet and sticky. She pulled her hand back and stared at it.

Color was smeared across her fingers. It alternated bright red or rich brown in the flashing lights. She looked up toward the blue and red lights, holding her hand over her eyes and squinting into the brightness. All of a sudden she felt very, very dizzy.

Out of the light, a figure strode toward her, catching her as she felt her knees give out.

“Ma’am? You’ve been in a car accident. Are you alright? Do you know where you are?”

The face of a handsome man looked down at her, she smiled then tried to brush the hair out of her face, leaving behind a smear of blood.

“I can’t find my shoe.”

Memphis Note
For several years, the intersection of Riverdale and Winchester was the most dangerous intersection in the state for car accidents. The large number of traffic lights, the broad streets, and the dozens of turnins to the retail establishments meant you never knew where danger was going to come from. Accidents were happening at least once a day, many of them injury accidents. In recent years, the number of wrecks has decreased due to most of the key stores moving to safer areas of the city, causing a decrease in the area’s traffic.