Smile at him
"I'm sorry, sir," you say. "I'm afraid I don't
understand what you mean. Why are you happy?"
The young man rolled his eyes. "Nevermind. I forgot this isn't
the twentieth century."
"Wha--Twentieth century?" you say. "What century are we
in, then?"
"Duh, as if you didn't know."
You stare at him for a second, confused.
"No, sir, I really don't know," you reply. " I can't
remember anything about myself, save my name. I don't even know if
it's really my name. It just happened to come to my mind."
"Well, Tarryn, or whoever you are, we are presently in the
fourteenth century in a small town called Tewkesbury. As in, Great
Britain."
He reaches down and offers his hand to you. "Here, let me help
you to your feet."
You take his hand and try to pull yourself to your feet when you are
suddenly overwhelmed with pain. You cry out and sink to your knees,
gasping.
"Are you all right?" the young man asks.
"No!" you cry. "I think I broke something, sir. I
can't walk."
You smile up at him, trying to be polite.
