#adarshthread

Food.

A human needed food and water to survive. All the other stuff was not as important as that.

Food and water.

And he figured that his best chance at sparking some memory was through food. He’d read that somewhere, he must’ve, because that factual information had been kept by his amnesiac brain. 

The Island might’ve taken everything else from him, but not information. He didn’t know if he’d read it, seen it, or heard it. But he knew it.

The Warehouse seemed like a good place to start, for some reason he didn’t want to stray too far away from the cruise ship - that information too he stored away as perhaps important.

It had food, enough food, different foods. Maybe the taste of something familiar would jog a memory free.

But after having touched and tasted several items, all of which he knew the names of and a few recipes to make from them, he was still as blank a slate as before.

And it only took a mere ten minutes for frustration to hit. He accidentally stubbed his toe against one of the crates and cursed the fowlest words he could come up with. All in that unknown language it would seem.