Cut & Run by Traci Hohenstein Page B

around. Even television personality Nancy Grace was calling him for an interview, and that was a headache he wanted to avoid. Everyone knew Nancy had a penchant for tearing into any husband of a missing wife or child.
    “Would you like me to give you guys some privacy?” Rachel asked.
    “No, I’m fine with you staying,” Matt said.
    Michelle agreed. “Well, let’s get started.”
    They all sat around the small table near the hotel window.
    Michelle’s first round of questions related to his health and his experience with the doctors in Baton Rouge.
    “So all your blood tests and physical examination came out normal?”
    Matt nodded. “Just a bump on the head and a possible concussion.”
    “Okay. Let’s get to what your last memory was. What do you remember?”
    “A couple months prior to the accident I took the day off to get a haircut and run some personal errands.”
    “Anything particular that happened that stands out in your mind?” Michelle asked.
    “It was a nice day, so after a visit to my tax attorney, I walked to a nearby coffee shop for a bite to eat. That’s about it.” Matt sighed. “I’ve been over this a million times. I feel like something significant happened that day, but I just can’t quite grasp it.”
    “That’s fine,” said Michelle. “I want you to relax and take your time. Close your eyes and let the memory flow naturally. This time, mentally use all your senses. I want you to hear the click of the scissors while the barber cuts your hair. Feel the warmth of the sun on the top of your head as you walk down the street. Smell the coffee brewing in the café.”
    Matt took a seat next to the window and closed his eyes, just like Michelle suggested. Making himself comfortable, he let his tense muscles relax. He caught a thread of memory and followed it, not talking aloud, but pretending he was recounting that day’s events to someone listening.
    That morning, I started the day off with a hair appointment at a local barber. Erin had been on me for weeks about getting my hair cut because it was getting close to my shoulder. My hair is naturally curly, and Erin kidded me that I was looking like a surfer dude with the long hair. After a thirty-minute appointment, I left and met my tax attorney about an issue on my income taxes. That problem was resolved, and I left the attorney’s office earlier than anticipated, although five thousand dollars poorer.
    The tax attorney was located downtown near the French Quarter. I had an hour to kill before my next appointment, so I went to one of my favorite coffee joints to get a pick-me-up and a quick bite to eat. It was a beautiful day to walk, the air was crisp and not too hot, and the sky was a brilliant blue, with not a cloud in sight. I proceeded down Royal Street looking for the Flora Gallery and Coffee Shop.
    Flora was unlike any other coffee place in town. It was what Erin would call hippie-fied. The inside was filled with weathered wood and stained glass. Local art filled the walls, including a couple of pieces from my wife. Erin had two watercolors on display. My favorite was a scene from our family vacation spot in Grayton Beach, Florida: it showed two small children playing on the beach with a weathered 1950s cottage in the background. The other piece featured a centuries-old graveyard in the heart of New Orleans.
    I loved coming to eat here, and my mouth was watering thinking about the Ethiopian coffee I was going to order along with a cheese omelet and home fries.
    Abruptly, he reached the end of the memory. Matt opened his eyes for a moment, taking in Michelle and the surrounding hotel room. This is where his memory of the fateful day usually ended. But this time, Matt was determined to push through. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and did what Michelle had suggested. Matt imagined the feel of the sun beating down on his face, the smell of coffee brewing, and seeing…seeing what? A flicker of an image…just like