Lost

Confused, he turned around, his gaze glancing from shadow to shadow. He had lost himself. Lost, not merely altered or misplaced. Like a note that has changed its tune, or a color that has shifted its shade. For better or worse he could not say, he did not know whether his former self should be sought and restored or left and forgotten. All he knew was that the loss yielded for him sorrow, like the passing of an old friend. Like death. Some things that are lost cannot be restored; was he himself one such thing? He made up his mind and continued.