Ron got up out of his bed, feeling slightly odd. Despite only being conscious for under ten seconds, he felt like something recently slipped his mind, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He shuffled to the toilet, thinking if it could possibly be due to still feeling foggy from his sleep, but when he finished he still felt troubled.
Might it be something to do with work? No... I'm on top of everything he told himself. But he still couldn't shift the niggling feeling.
Ron dressed himself then went down to get some food, ensuring not to disturb his wife or children in the process. He often left before they even stirred from their slumber.
In the corridor, he noticed his wife’s recently procured retro jukebox still obstructing the front door. He suddenly remembered it needed to be moved, deciding he would do it when he got home, but he still felt like he needed to remember something urgent.
In the kitchen, he chomped on his food whilst trying to figure out the thing bothering him. He looked over to the clock on the oven to check the time, but it still showed the evening hour, not the correct morning time. Even though it bothered Ron consistently when trying to find the correct time from the kitchen, it still didn’t exceed the discomfort of his missing memory.
Once finished with his food, Ron went to go to work, but before he could get to the front door he stubbed his toe on the jukebox, which then led him to vent his fury by hitting it. His swing struck the power button, which succeeded in switching on the jukebox, but injured his knuckles in the process, provoking him even further.
He sighed, then went outside so he could cool down. Once he took some deep gulps of oxygen, he entered his truck to drive to work. He tried to switch on some music so he could keep his mind occupied, but the routinely terrible news of countries possibly plotting to drop untold destruction on other countries didn’t help to lighten his disposition.
Once he got to work, Ron slumped himself in front of his computer, switched it on, then pondered on his thoughts, seeing if he could discover the thing he still couldn’t quite remember.
When his co-worker strolled by his desk, Ron cried out, “Steve, could you come help me?”
“Sure, is something wrong?” Steve perched himself on the edge of the desk to listen.
“I’m not sure, there’s something weird going on with me. You know the feeling when there’s some word on the tip of your tongue, but you’re not sure of it? It’s kind of like my mind is doing it, but there is something I’m struggling to remember. Honestly, I don’t even feel like I’m Ron this morning.”
Steve frowned, “Well, this could just be me, but to my knowledge you’ve never gone by ‘Ron’ before just now.”
Then it suddenly occurred to him, the thing he couldn’t put his finger on since he woke up, right in front of him the entire time.
For full points, one must show:
- The thing he couldn’t remember.
- Every clue hinting to it from the story.
- How he is commonly referred to.
