Who Am I ?

          I try to wake up form an unconscious state. I don’t remember how I got in this small hospital room where every wall is covered with dirty tiles. The bed’s irritant material cause me itches, I begin to scratch and look around. On the dusty bedside lays a thick book, it’s my book. The bookmark shows me that I have just a few pages to read, although I don’t remember to read that much. But I can perfectly think of our big country with its small cities and about how nice the people are. Nice? Kind?  I shake my head and look outside the broken window surrounded by spider’s webs. The buildings seem to sting the grayish sky. The noise made by the factories’ engines gives the landscape a darkest mood. The city gives the impression of being emerged from a nightmare. Still I’m sure it’s not a dream. But why do I seem to believe it’s a beautiful city?

            I hardly get up, take my book and leave, yet I don’t forget to stop at the front desk. The blonde woman doesn’t smile, but I have the impression that she’s sweet.

            “Can you tell me who brought me here?” She frowns.

            “You came alone. You paid alone.” My eyes widen.

            “Are you sure? Did I say something else?”

            “You muttered something about a guy and some chips, and about how much you want to change everyone’s lives.” I left without saying anything.

            Already outside the hospital I expected to breathe fresh air, but my lungs are full of polluted air. I want to go home.

            I check my pockets. My phone, keys and wallet are there.

            The block looks like it was vandalized. I climb the stairs until I reach the fifth floor. The door next to mine opens and a pretty tall guy with messy hair shows up. When he sees me, his eyes pop out. He has a baby face in contrast with his toned body. It feels like déjà vu and I don’t know why.

           “Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask him. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Something’s fishy.

            “Uhm. . .I. . .don’t know. . .I don’t think so. I mean, no way!” He steps forward and when he’s beside me I suddenly grab his arm.

            “You’re sure?” I give him a determined glare.

            “I don’t know you!” I let him go, yet I’m sure he squeezed something in my pocket. It’s not a bomb. . .for sure, so I’m not curious about it.

            The flat’s door is broken so I don’t have to unlock it and everything inside is messed up. I don’t remember anything and I don’t even know what have I done yesterday. Maybe somebody was searching for something. Money? Jewels? I don’t have anything like that. Maybe that guy knows something and I think the best thing I can do is to check my pocket. A shiny, little device? Does he stalk me? Why did I go to that hospital and talk about chips? And one more thing: why did I take my book? Sigh. I leave the device in my pocket. I’m hungry. I check my fridge. Empty. I check my wallet and there is a business card. I closely inspect it. Secret Agent Jungkook? Before I toss it away something catch my eyes. My handwriting: Call here! There is also a phone number.

            I leave my flat with my phone, keys, wallet, but also my book. No one’s on the street. Perhaps everyone is working. Weird, I don’t remember myself working so I have money from. . .? But the right question is why I can’t remember half of my life.

            There ain’t cars on the road, but why I get the impression that all this things are normal. My mind tells me it’s ok but my heart knows the truth.

            I call the number on the business card and my phone knows this number: Kookie <3

            “He-Hello?” A husky, yet hesitate voice answer.

            “Is this Agent Jungkook?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Can I ask why your business card is in my wallet?”

            “I think we should meet so I can explain you better.”

            “What’s wrong with my phone?”

            “It’s recorded.”

            “Ok, where should I