The Flour Man

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I was lost. I took a left and a right, then another two rights before running into a servant. I believe her name was Annalee. She told me to take two lefts and a right to get to the south door. She said that it was the closest exit that would lead me to the gardens.

Well, I took the two lefts only to walk down a hallway that led to a dead end. She must've gotten confused. I retraced my steps and ended up at the kitchens.

"What're you doing here?" I jumped and twisted around to see a young man with a sack of flour casually stacked on his shoulder. He lowered his eyes and walked past me as I fumbled over my words, uncertainty snaking its way through my body.

"I...I'm lost." I admitted while looking down at my feet. I twisted my fingers.

"Someone of your standing shouldn't be down here." His back was to me as he sat the flour on a metal table and made his way back.

He walked past me and disappeared behind some shelving before reappearing with another sack of flour.

"Where you going?" He paused after setting the second sack down. A small puff of flour escaped and settled in a fine dust over the counter.

"Umm, the gardens."

His nose scrunched up, "Really?"

I rose an eyebrow as he leaned on the counter behind him. "Why is that surprising?"

He shrugged, "'Cause of your roots."

Did he know something? "What roots?"

He cracked a smile, "Those fancy people upstairs didn't tell you?"

My chest tightened as an image of Kingsley's kind eyes flashed through my head. He wouldn't lie to me.  I crossed my arms, "Of course they told me."

"Did they now?" He copied me and crossed his arms, "What exactly did they tell you?" He lifted a single brow in callenge.

My chest tightened with my loss for words. I clenched my fists in frustration. Not at this man, but at myself. "I'm a distant relative."

He guffawed, "A distant relative?" he laughed before muttering, "That's the best they could come up with?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I stepped towards him as he continued to chuckle. I didn't know what was funny, and my cheeks burned with my embarrasment. I felt out of place as I moved to slide past him to escape the situation. His hand reached out and clamped on my wrist.

I looked down in surprise before looking into his own surprised eyes. A quick wall slid into place as his face twisted into one of disgust as he roughly pushed my arm away.

He took a step back, "You were one of us." he looked up into my brown eyes as if he was partaking a deep secret.

"What?" I was a servant? I spoke with surprise and a newfound curiosity. Why wouldn't they tell me that?

I shook my head, "No! You're lying."

He took a solid step away from me, "What? Think you're too good for us?" He thumped his hand against his chest as his body went rigid. He turned to the table behind him and reached for the flour he sat down a few moments before.

"No, I didn't say that. I just... I just... don't understand why they wouldn't tell me." My words trailed off. I rubbed my fingers against my temples as my head started its familiar throbbing. I wanted to remember so badly, but my body was fighting me. Perhaps it was protecting me from something; bocking out the bad so I could have a fresh start and concentrate on the new.

I sat down as my head started to spin. Our conversation died as he pushed off the table and zipped around the kitchen and gathered supplies. I continued to sit on some sort of shelf as he ripped open the flour, scooped some out, and weighed it. He didn't say a single word, but the silence that followed didn't feel awkward.

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