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Warnings: N/A. Summary: Drabble. He has impressions, but can't remember anything. The boy stared uncertainly at his tiny hands. When had he ever had such hands? For some reason, he could remember having much bigger hands. Much bigger. And his hair, hadn’t it been jet black before? Not this dull light brown color like it was now. And his tongue felt weird in his mouth.... What was wrong with him? He didn’t know. He didn’t really want to know. The boy shook his head. There was something wrong. He could feel it. But he couldn’t remember! Who was he anyway? Why did he have no memories, except a vague image of a different body, of being a different person? "Rest easy, dear," a soft voice said, and a blond-haired man peered down at him. His face was kind, if sad. "You were punished for something that you shouldn’t have been punished for. Those memories of yours won’t be coming back." He stared at the man, eyes wide with fear. "My name is Aziraphale. Yours is...is Anthony. I’m going to be taking care of you from now on, okay?" He thought for a few moments and stared up at the kind face. It looked familiar. He couldn’t understand why. His mind worked furiously. He would stay. He had to. But to do that, he needed to know a few things. He decided to start simple. The man was smiling at him, waiting for something. "Where am I?" questioned the boy.  it'll be okay
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