"I think I had Chinese," Jim answered. He'd remembered... a lot. But some of the small details, the everyday things - those were still lost. Still beyond reach. He didn't mind so much except in these situations, where he didn't know if he liked something or if he didn't - if he'd ever eaten food from China or if he hadn't. He could remember kicking some guys' asses as they were beating up a scrawny blonde kid, but he couldn't remember his favourite flavour of ice cream. "I'll drop by there on my way home and see what smells good."