"I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do for you."

"What do you mean?"

Dr. Carmen took off his glasses and slowly massaged his eyes. He sighed deeply as he replaced them, and proceeded to spread out the stack of papers on the table in front of him.

"Clarissa, besides what we've already tried, there doesn't seem to be anything else we can do to help get your memory back." Dr. Carmen looked grave. "You have an extraordinarily rare case. Most people can at least recall some previous experiences, but you seem to have no memory whatsoever."

Clarissa shook her head. "Can't you give me some shock to the head or something? You know, try to jolt it all back?"

"I’ve told you before, it doesn't work that way," said Dr. Carmen. "Clarissa, there is no damage to any part of your brain that we can find. Your memory has been erased without leaving any tangible clue as to why. As far as we can tell, it could be gone for good."

Clarissa opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead she stared blankly at the stack of papers spread out across the table before her. She wasn't even sure that Clarissa was her real name. When they had found her in the alley, it was the first name that came to mind. But she couldn't be sure that it belonged to her. She couldn't be sure of anything.

Dr. Carmen sighed again. "Look, Clarissa. Maybe you should go on and try to live life normally for a while. You have no trouble forming new memories, and in time maybe your old ones will come back on their own."

Clarissa continued to stare at the table. "But what if they don't?"

Dr. Carmen paused. "Then you're going to have to accept that as a possibility," he said after a few moments. "The worst thing that could happen is that you'd have to start your life over again from here."

"But how?" she said sharply, looking up. "They never found any of my family. I don't have a job. You make it sound like it’s something easy."

The steady hum of the air conditioner filled the silence that ensued. Clarissa switched her eyes back to the table again, and Dr. Carmen leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face. After a while something seemed to light up in his eyes, and he suddenly took a pad of paper from his desk and began to scribble something across it.

"There's only so much I can do for you at this point,” he said while writing. "But if nothing else I can at least give you this." He ripped the piece of paper of the pad and held it out folded to Clarissa.

Clarissa looked at him strangely as she took it. "What is this?"

"Just read it," he said.

Clarissa carefully unfolded the piece of paper. In the doctor's cramped, scribbled handwriting she could make out three words:

THE RED BOX

Clarissa frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what this is," she said slowly. "What am I supposed to do wi—" Her words stuck inside her throat mid-sentence. Something about Dr. Carmen had changed. He no longer bore that same old tired look that he had worn ever since Clarissa had started meeting with him. He now had a stone faced expression, his eyes gazing dead ahead and right through her. His jaw was loose, and his lips separated a fraction of an inch. He appeared almost lifeless.

"Dr. Carmen?" she said hesitantly after swallowing.

The doctor's soulless eyes continued to gaze forward, unwavering. Clarissa even went as far as to slowly wave her hand back and forth in front of his face. Nothing.

"Doctor, can you hear me?" she said, a little terror lining her voice. Still no response. His face was almost solidified. Frozen.

And the more he stared the more Clarissa was filled with dread.

"Doctor?" The trembling in her voice was now unmistakable. Soon she even imagined that some gripping force was coming over her from across the table.

Clarissa suddenly jerked out of her chair, her eyes fixed on Dr. Carmen's frozen body. Grabbing her purse, she walked briskly past the table and out through the office door. Her heels clicked loudly as she made her way stiffly down the hall. A sliver of calm went through her as she neared the receptionist’s table. The receptionist beamed as Clarissa set her purse down on top of the counter.

"Excuse, I think something may have happened to Dr. Carmen," she began, quickly glancing back down the hall. "I was just sitting there, and all of a sudden—" Clarissa experienced that same sensation of her words suddenly falling back into her throat. The receptionist's face was locked into her widened smile, and her manicured hands hovered inches above the keyboard, her fingers mid-stroke.

Frozen.

Clarissa burst out of the clinic’s large glass doors and out onto the city street. She was shaking uncontrollably, and didn't dare look back at the smiling mannequin in the lobby. Without thinking she near sprinted across the parking lot to her car. Frantically, she pulled out her keys and got inside. She quickly inserted a key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. She turned it a second time. Not even a sputter.

Clarissa slammed a white knuckled fist onto the steering wheel. A blazing horn shattered the air around her. It resonated among the nearby buildings as she fell back into her chair, breathing heavily. She shut her eyes and tried to navigate through the sea that swam inside her mind. Both the images of Dr. Carmen and the receptionist were burned into her vision forever. These were now the memories she would someday look back on. Clarissa felt sick to her stomach.

As she sat there breathing, Clarissa slowly became aware of a crumpled piece of paper held tightly in her fist. She opened her hand and found it to be the same strange message that Dr. Carmen had given her. Clarissa didn't remember taking it with her.

She closed her eyes again. The red box? She couldn't fathom what Dr. Carmen had intended for her with this message, and frankly, she didn't care. All she felt like doing was driving out of his part of town and back home. The idea of her lonely apartment never seemed so inviting until now.

She tried turning the key again. Still nothing. With a heave of reluctance, she stepped out of her car and shut the door behind her. The outside air carried a chill breeze that caused Clarissa's skin to tighten with goose bumps. And it wasn't the only thing. In her rush she hadn't noticed what the other people were doing in the parking lot. A man not twenty feet in front of her was halted mid step in the street aisle, his left foot stuck inches above the floor. Even his tie was frozen as it flapped behind his neck.

There were others around Clarissa as well. A woman with a red scarf was stuck in a squatting position as she tried to sit down inside of her car. A man to her left was three-quarters of the way pulling out his space, with his head still turned and eyes gazing through his back window.

Another woman stood a couple of aisles across with a stern look on her face as she perpetually checked the time on a wrist watch that no longer ticked. As Clarissa made a silent three-sixty from where she stood, there could be seen at least half a dozen more human statues scattered across the lot.

A large knot tightened painfully in Clarissa's stomach. Her breath came out in gasps, forming puffs of vapor that quickly escaped with stinging breeze. Her fingers dug deep into the sleeves of her clothes.

Everything, everyone around her was still and lifeless. Everywhere Clarissa turned there was another statue. She felt as if they were crowding around her, boxing her in. She held onto her clothes tighter as she shut her eyes forcefully, trying to block out their presence. The thought of them standing there, literally frozen in time, smothered her.

She was alone.

***

The streets were lifeless and cold. The biting wind continued to blow unrelentingly against Clarissa's stiff and trembling body as she walked along the street just off the sidewalk. She couldn't bear to come face to face with all the zombie-like beings that she came across from time to time.

The office where she came to see her psychiatrist sat in a relatively still part of town. Every few minutes a lone car flew across one of the streets, and then silence reigned again. But that was on a normal day. Today seemed curiously busier, with at least a few dozen cars rooted to the ground, and people filling every sidewalk.

Clarissa tried not to look up. There was something so unsettling about them; it made her feel as if there were insects gnawing at her from the inside out. She kept her eyes to the streets as often as possible.

Her legs were starting to ache. She had been walking for what seemed like hours. Clarissa was trying to make her way back to her apartment. But it was miles away. The sun stayed frozen in its place above her in its early morning position. Every time she checked above her the sun hadn't moved. At least she wasn't worried that it would get dark before she made it home.

But the perpetually cold air was starting to sink into her bones; even her constant walking couldn't warm her enough. Besides her thin jacket and jeans, she only had an old scarf to wrap around her. Clarissa hadn’t expected to stay too long at the psychiatrist; she knew it was just going to be the same old prognosis that they gave her every week.

Clarissa trembled from the shoulders up. Her memories were the least of her worries now.

As she turned a street corner Clarissa was suddenly met with a mass of people all huddled near each other. She decided at first to just go ahead and walk around them, but as she came closer and closer she couldn't help wonder what they could all be staring at.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face the small crowd. For a small while she just stood there, trying to put aside her fear of them. They were just people after all. Frozen people.

Clarissa hesitantly stepped to the edge of group, and after a deep breath began to wedge her way in between the rigid bodies. Not able to avoid rubbing against them, she noticed how very warm they all still felt. There were still living people inside them. If only slightly, this thought comforted her.

Soon Clarissa had woven her way through them all. She now stood in a small semicircle of a gap to which all had their attention fixed. As she looked at their faces for the first time she found looks of surprise and those who appeared in mid-gasp. A few women had their hands clamped around their mouths, wide-eyed. Something startling had taken place.

Clarissa looked around the small circle of people, and found that most of them were looking to a bright young man standing amongst them. He was pointing to the window of a clothing store display a few feet away. Clarissa walked across to the window, and saw groups of playing cards scattered across the sidewalk beneath it.

One of the cards seemed to remain stuck to the window. It had someone's signature scribbled across its face. Clarissa looked closer. It was the Ace of Diamonds. She reached her hand out to scrape it off of the window. Her hand met nothing but glass. The card was stuck to the other side.

Impossible.

Something light and bubbly stirred inside her as she turned over the notion in her head. She let the feeling rise up and fill her head, drain over her face, and resonate over her entire body. Clarissa felt real. This one shred of strangeness had emptied her mind of everything, and for one fleeting moment she just felt.

Clarissa tried to soak it in. She breathed deep and wrapped her scarf more snuggly around her neck. But as she turned her head something hit her smack dab in the face.

She stumbled back as it whipped across her whole face, and her head smacked hard into solid concrete. Clarissa inhaled sharply as she grabbed the back of her head. With her free hand she pulled away the piece of paper that had flown into her face, hot tears forming in her eyes.

As she rubbed her sore cranium, the front of the paper came into view. Clarissa recognized it as an ad. But as she read the bold-faced lettering, her throbbing head seemed to become nothing more than a distant worry.

THE RED BOX CAFE

COME DINE OUT AND HAVE A NIGHT TO REMEMBER!

On the Corner of Elephant and Kings.

***

Clarissa made her way briskly down Elephant street. Thoughts were racing through her head at a rate nearly too fast to keep up. She no longer paid any attention to her numbing skin or aching feet. Only three words held her attention now. Red Box Cafe.

Night to Remember

Clarissa was sick to her stomach from all that had happened so far, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that this could all be a set-up for her. After all, she was the only who wasn't frozen. Then another dark lump settled into her stomach. What if she was just crazy? What if she hadn't only lost her memories, but her sanity as well? She could imagine herself now, still sitting in Dr. Carmen's office, convulsing with hallucinations on the floor. She tried to push the thought away. It didn't seem possible that she was just imagining this. Then again, none of this seemed possible.

All she knew for sure is that she needed to get to the Red Box Cafe.

She was on Elephant street, but she didn't know how long it would be before she met up with Kings. It had taken her nearly an hour to find Elephant in the first place. She had gone way off track to her own home, and she wasn't exactly familiar with this part of the city.

On her way she passed a small church that was crammed amongst the tall buildings. A large cross stood tall atop its roof, shining in the morning light. The neatly cut grass in front gleamed with morning dew. Across the side of the front wall hung a wide banner. Its gold letters stood out brightly against the dark red background.

Hope

Clarissa quickened her pace. There were answers waiting for her at the end of this street. She couldn't afford to believe any different. A Night to Remember. Something was willing her to go there. An invisible force was constantly nudging at her back, keeping each step coming one after another. What the cafe held, she couldn't know for sure, but she knew that no matter what, she needed to get there. It was the only hope she had left.

Clarissa halted. She had come to a large, barbed wire fence. It stood ten feet tall between two apartment buildings, its rusted spikes looming ominously above the street.

Elephant Street had come to a dead end.

Clarissa paced back and forth across the street, trying to see past the empty lot beyond the fence. Her hands shook as she walked. She was desperate to find the right way. Kings Avenue couldn’t be too far now. A heavy wall blocked the far side of the lot. She couldn't see past it, but it was possible the street continued somewhere beyond there.

Clarissa looked to the buildings surrounding the lots. They seemed to be old apartment complexes. Paint was peeling and crusted all across its exterior, and the color of each balcony varied with the amount of rust present. There had to be a back door that led to the other side of the street.

Clarissa sprinted to the nearest apartment door in the corner of the alley. Number 297. She tried the knob, and to her surprise, it swung open.

Carefully, she stuck her head just inside the apartment, trying to look over the corner into what she imagined must be the living room. It's not that she expected anyone to be there; that is, anyone who wasn't a living statue.

After a few silent moments she stepped into the room, and suddenly found herself amongst a family. But it didn't seem to be breakfast time just yet.

A tired old woman sat hunched over the couch. With grave eyes and tear stained cheeks, she had her eyes fixed to carpet floor. Her husband loomed over her, his hands looking as if they had been waving wildly. His face was contorted with a mixture of hate and rage.

Clarissa felt rooted to the floor herself. Two small girls were huddled in the corner with their heads buried into their laps. A third was hanging from her father's trouser leg, her eyes closed tightly and mouth pulled back in a howl.

The scene mortified her. It all seemed so pointless, so ignorant. Clarissa wondered if anything like this could be a part of her past. To the best of her knowledge she could have been worse off than these three little girls. Clarissa knelt down besides the one grabbing at her father’s clothes. Her face was stretched into an expression of grief beyond her years.

Clarissa’s face grew hot. She was helpless to save them. If time ever continued, they would still be in the same position, the same life. If only she could leave them something. Without another thought, she went into kitchen and began searching through the drawers. Soon she found the pen and paper she needed. With tears running down her cheeks, she wrote. Then she carefully put the pen back in the drawer and folded the piece of paper into the smallest little square possible.

She took the paper and placed it with the mother, squeezing it into the loose fist that hung by her leg. Getting up, Clarissa took one final look around and then silently headed for the back door.

Light flooded back into her vision as she swung open into the streets. A few scraps of trash blew around the asphalt in small tornadoes. Dust kicked up around her feet as she stepped out into the open to get a better look at where she was.

Her heart soared as the corner street signs came into view. Elephant and Kings. And there it was. In bright neon lettering across the top of the first building were the words Red Box Café. All four walls were painted a deep red, so that it literally resembled a little colored box.

Without knowing it Clarissa had already begun walking towards it. Her heart was pounding inside of her chest, and her throat was dry. The letter “R” in the neon sign flickered on and off as she came closer. The whole place seemed to grow larger with every step she took, and the contrast of the red against the gray of the buildings beside it became increasingly darker and pronounced.

Soon the tinted glass door was inches away from her, its long black handle begging to be pulled. A buzz shot through her as she reached her hand out. This was it. Something had to be there behind this door. Something, anything.

And she opened it.

A musty smell of old table coverings filled her nostrils. The floor felt slightly sticky beneath her shoes, and a bell rung as she shut the door. A little dust hung in the air around her. The restaurant was empty. The register stood unattended by the far wall, with specials hung up on a board behind it. It looked as if no one had eaten there for months.

Clarissa slumped down onto one of the white plastic chairs by the door. She took her head in her hands, and breathed a deep sigh. All at once the ache in her legs caught up with her, and an overwhelming sense of fatigue came over her.

Nothing, she thought bitterly. Absolutely nothing.

“Can I help you?”

Clarissa jumped. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Before her stood an elderly looking man, dressed in a ridiculous looking red uniform from head to foot. “I’m sorry to startle you, ma’am,” he said sincerely. “Welcome to the Red Box Café. Can I get anything for you?”

Clarissa sat motionless with her hand still over her mouth, staring at him. He was moving. A walking, talking, moving person. But how?

“Are you alright?” he asked, his bushy white eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You look tired. Do you need anything?”

Clarissa gulped. “How are you here?” she managed to croak.

“Ma’am, I work here. Now can I get you anything, or would you like to peruse our specials?” He gestured to the board behind him. “Let’s see here, we have our Breakfast Deluxe. That comes with eggs, bacon, hash browns, all the good stuff. And then we top it off with a stack of pancakes.” He smiled brightly, but Clarissa’s stupefied expression hadn’t changed. “Or,” he said quickly, “I can whip you up some French toast with our special strawberry butter. I can tell you, it’s quite delicious. We also have steak, hamburgers, fried shrimp, memories, and even ice cream if you’d like.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said we have some ice cream if you’d like,” the old man continued. “But it is early morning, so I’m not sure if it’s the best thing to have at the mo—”

“No,” Clarissa cut him off. “I mean, did I hear you say memories?”

“Oh. Yes,” he said, smiling even brighter. “Freshly cooked and seasoned, ready to serve in minutes. It’s actually one of our more popular items.”

Clarissa’s heart started to beat fiercely again. “I think I’ll try some,” she said in a haze.

“Coming right up,” he winked. With that the old man quickly disappeared behind the kitchen doors.

Silence. Clarissa felt her blood pulsating against the inside of her skin. Her palms began to sweat, and as she glanced towards the kitchen, she imagined the old man would never come out. What if she had just imagined him? This shouldn’t be happening. Everyone had been frozen. How could this simple old man still be perfectly normal, and completely oblivious to the fact that it had been early morning for the past several hours now?

And then she heard it. The steady ticking of the small, box shaped clock on the wall above her. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Time moved here.

The kitchen doors swung open again. The funny looking old man came back rolling a small cart with a silver domed plate on top. He still wore that ridiculous smile as he walked over to her.

“A fresh plate of memories for the lovely lady,” he said, handing her silverware wrapped up in a napkin. “I hope you like it. I made this plate entirely from scratch.”

The silver dome gleamed dully from the near burned out lights above. Clarissa leaned closer, and slowly grasped the lid’s handle. It was cold to the touch, and slightly oily.

“Be careful now,” he added. “Every plate comes out different. You may not get what you want every time.”

Clarissa shot him a glance. He had a knowing look in his tired old eyes. She smiled.

“It’s better than nothing.” The lid was pulled off.

All turned white.