You run like Hell from the bookstore

You grip In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower firmly. You take one last look around for a better exit to escape. The only other possibility is the door in the café section, so you will run through the double front doors of the bookstore at full speed. You run straight through, attracting attention from customers and employees alike.

You keep running across the strip mall, turning behind it. You find a discarded apron like a chef might have. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.

You hear a delivery truck coming, so you hide in the dumpster. While you are waiting for them to finish their job and leave, you take a closer look at the mysterious number on the back of your hand. It just might be a phone number.

You scrounge up enough change to make a phone call if you can just find a pay phone somewhere. Walking with your back turned from the roads, you happen upon a pay phone at a gas station. You dial the number on your hand with trepidation.

“Hello? Who is this?” a mellifluous female voice asks.

“Hey, uh, it’s me. I’m in a real jam,” you say, hoping that the woman will be sympathetic or helpful.

“What? What’s going on? If this is your idea of a joke…” she insists.

“No, I am naked except for an apron, and I have amnesia. Honest-to-god amnesia. I just ran from a bookstore, and now I’m getting hungry.”

“Ok, stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”