Concerning the Sunlight

  The rain had ceased, which was a boon. The sky was bright and gravid, dark spaces with bullet-holes of streaming sunlight and recumbent water still dripping and pooled about the ragged concrete. A chill breeze sauntered auspiciously, a tawdry phantom of something unworldly.
  Taylor tried to save his eyes from the glare as he followed the paper scrap, each sparkling tear of former rain dancing a mariachi on his tender optic nerves. He was provoked at the back of his mind by a sense of familiarity, but was unable to capture. The sensation in itself was familiar, and when he focused on it he realized he had no memory of the journey in progress. He knew he had the memory -- it was just inaccessible for now.
  The feeling was only alleviated when he knocked on the chosen door, and faced the Asian kid who lived downstairs.