He put on pants. It turned out to be a simple goal--there were plenty of pants lying around. He just put on whatever was closest.
His arms still tingled and occasionally felt sharp bursts of recirculating blood and newly feeling nerves.
He was standing without making that decision. It came with the pants. A shirt naturally followed.
A door.
A cramped apartment, the entire living area visible from the doorway. More clutter, unwashed items that should have been washed, and grime and dirt and damage.
Then, an abstract thought.
I am awake
Another:
My name is Brian
And a third:
I feel terrible
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