Outside. From across the stray-infested streets, I stare. Obnoxious neon lights flash. Dizziness ensues. And I find myself asking... what the hell is churning inside of me? Why the am I here? Why the is anyone here? The cold night breeze picks up again, nipping at exposed skin. Old, deprived emotions resurface to pay me an unwelcome visit. To remind me, most faithfully, that everyone I ever loved is gone.

Long dead.

Thanks. Thanks a lot. Like I ing need the reminder.

Inside. From across the lounge, I stare. Her backless dress is steel blue tonight... with the usual dark eyes, dark hair, contrasting against light skin.

Her name is 'Sin.' 'Sin,' my first guess of the night. A lonely mistress drowning her sorrow in the lights, in the people, in the alcohol.

I sip.

Her feline eyes glance my way. Her legs uncross and cross again.

I sip. One more sip before rising. As I approach her from across the lounge, I pep-talk myself into acting smooth, acting cool.

"Hi, I'm Jay." A naive lie.

With that kind of smooth introduction, I expect her to ignore me. And ignore me, she does. For a while, anyway. She turns her head and I get a full whiff her perfume. . I choke. The churning inside me grows. Unbearable. Wanting to burst. What the is in that perfume?

"Do you know me?" She asks in a biting tone.

"No... but I want to know you... or get to know you." Smooth. Real smooth.

"Do you know my name?" Something inside her compels the question. Not her... but something inside her. I should probably respond with a 'no.' The reasonable response here would be a 'no.'

But, the stern look on her face, the angst in her eyes, they require another answer. Something else from me. Something else. How many times have I come up with a name for her? And yet, at this most crucial moment, I am drawing a complete blank. It must be that perfume. It must be that damn perfume messing with my senses.

Sin. Lin. Gin.

That damn perfume.

She stands up, drops her cigarette, and extinguishes it with her stiletto. She is losing interest in me.

It is strange. Only now do I notice the smell of smoke weaving in and out through the fabrics of her perfume. Only now.

A name. I need a name.

"Hitoya."

My random answer produces an uncanny smile, re-igniting interest.

"And what is your name? Do you know your name?"

This is an odd way of asking for my name... or does she really think I don't know my own name? Of course I know my own name. It's... it's...

Jay. Lay. Grey.

. It must be that damn perfume.

"Do you know your name?" She repeats her question.

My insides grow extremely restless. How is this possible? How is this ing possible? How can I forget my own name?

"It's Won. Won Knight." She whispers, answering her own question. "We are made a pair, you and I."

As she takes a hold of me, I look into her eyes. Enticing. Intense. Hijacking all reason, all logic. She lightly touches my neck and smiles again. "Shall we go on a trip?"

Yes... yes, please. "Where to?"