The Musician was sweating now, and no better off for it. He sighed, leaning back and trying to recall how he got into this mess in the first place. He remembered waking up, but what of the rest of his life? Judging by the wrinkles he felt in his skin, there must have been a lot of living. He cast his sad gaze at the floor, trying to reach back in his memory when the woman piped up about a key. [i]Just my luck[/i], the Musician thought to himself. [i]It's a woman helping me out of this.[/i] He felt a twinge of disdain for her pity, and looked away trying to trace any mental steps back as she tested the key on his chains. It made him feel like a bum collecting change, or a little boy who couldn't bear to see a shot.

>Recollect