The first time he opened his eyes, he was lying on a scratchy woolen carpet. A small chandelier dangled above him on the ceiling. He blinked a couple of times and lay there for who knows how long, feeling blank as ever. His legs were wobbly when he stood up and observed the room around him.

It was a strange room but it intrigued him. In front of him two small identical sofas sat beside one another, and between them was a small table, with a lamp and a picture frame. A large expanse of opened windows stretched behind the sofas against pale beige walls, and translucent white curtains blew calmly in the breeze. He looked down at himself squinting at his large rough looking hands, and also noticed how his pale blue shirt was buttoned all wrong. Slowly, he started moving towards the windows. Palm trees and lush tropical plants grew just outside of the house surrounding a deck. Beyond that, his eyes met shades of blue stripping across the horizon. The air smelt of salt and the sound of lapping waves against the shore felt peaceful.

Slowly but surely, the hazy dreamlike state he was in was fading, and there was one dauntingly clear fact that was staring straight at him: he had no clue what this place was. But no, no that wasn’t all…. something else was missing. Something important. But for some reason, he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

He looked down at his hands again carefully watching the movement of his fingers, when all at once the realization slapped him square across the face. His body went stiff. It wasn’t just that he didn’t where he was, he didn’t know who he was. His name, his age, the people he knew— it was all gone, and it all made no sense. He understood the world around him; that the sky was blue, that the seasons change from winter to spring to summer to fall; yet he knew absolutely nothing personal about himself and his connection with other people. There was not a single specific face, name, or place connected to him that he could remember. He didn’t even know what he looked like.

His breathing grew rapid and a pool of dread sat in his stomach as he frantically looked around. To his left was a wall with a large open entranceway leading to what looked like a dining room with a table with two chairs. He then whirled around to look at the opposite end of the room and what he saw made his stomach drop.

Eyes widened in horror yet utmost curiosity, he trembled and moved cautiously towards the mirror that stretched from ceiling to floor against part of the wall. At least it looked like a mirror, but what on earth was it? The mirror, or whatever it could be, only reflected a frozen image of the room. The sofas, the curtains, the lamp, they were all there, creating a reflection of the room. Yet everything was still. The curtains reflected in the mirror were frozen in the midst of what looked wind blowing into the room. It was as if someone took a snapshot of the room in a single moment in time and somehow placed it into the mirror.

The most alarming part was him in the mirror. His reflection had the same clothes he was currently wearing but stood completely still, staring back at him. He slowly lifted his palms up to touch his reflection, but his movement wasn’t mimicked. His reflection simply stood there, hands at its side, frozen. He couldn’t help but observe his image on the mirror and touch his own face. “Huh, so this is what I look like” the man muttered out loud. “Not bad I guess… though what would I know?”.

As he continued staring back and forth between the room and the mirror, an especially violent gust of wind blew into the room, knocking over the picture frame on the small table beside the sofa. He immediately whipped his head back to look at the mirror, but there was no difference in the reflection; the frame still stood upright.

He made his way towards the fallen photo frame and picked it up. The photo was of himself, and a handsome Asian man with silky hazelnut coloured hair who had his arm around his shoulder, and was making a peace sign with his other hand. The two of them were smiling widely with what he perceived, (despite his lack of personal memories), as a genuine sort of happiness, with the other man’s head resting slightly against his shoulder.

He continued staring at the photo when he realized there were wet tears dribbling down his cheek. “Huh?" he touched his face alarmed with an unmistakable aching in his chest. Of everything that had happened that day, this feeling by far was the most confusing. Why on earth would he involuntarily cry looking at a photo of this guy he didn’t even remember? He shook his head, quickly wiping his cheeks and thinking he’d had enough as he placed the frame side down on the table so he wouldn’t keep looking at it.

If he could find his phone, maybe he could look through it to find out more about himself. He rushed around the room looking behind some books on a bookshelf, on the sofa, on the carpet, all with no luck. He went through the entranceway to the dining room, which had a table, and on it were two apples. One apple was bitten, and one wasn’t (it all was quite odd). His stomach rumbled and he groaned, he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was. He took the unbitten apple and continued searching for his phone.

Connected to the dining room was a kitchen, and the only thing separating the two was a bar with two tall seats. His eyes scanned the kitchen and finally, he saw his phone. Relieved he took it, but it slowly dawned him that he didn’t even remember the passcode of all the things. Regardless, he tried turning it on, but it wouldn’t turn on. Well great. Forget getting as far as to attempt some password combinations, the phone didn’t even have battery in the first place, and the charger was no where to be seen.

The man could only sigh as he decided to explore further and exited the kitchen moving into an open hallway where he found stairs. The house so far lacked much signs of living, almost like those beach side houses you’d see in the magazines for homebuyers. Strangely enough, he liked it; it was uncluttered, and more relaxing and peaceful that way. As he munched on the apple, he located three bedrooms.

One was completely empty, with just a bed, rug, and unused closet. Another room had more signs of living, although it looked like whoever had been there, no longer stayed in this room. The were two or three books left on the shelf, the bed wasn’t made, and the closet had a few hangers but no clothes, but that was about it. There was also an old boxed television set in front of the bed. He finally walked over to the last bedroom feeling more familiarity. This had to be his bedroom. The shelves were stacked with books, papers and folders. There was work on his desk, and a briefcase sat beside his unmade bed. He quickly rummaged through it, finally locating his wallet and diver’s license. “Kim Mingyu” he murmured out loud. So that was his name… “Born April 6th, 1991,” he continued reading.

He quickly rummaged through his bag some more and found a planner that read ‘2017’. Mingyu stared at the numbers for a while, letting his thoughts wash over him. If it was 2017, and he was born on 1991… that meant he was 26. There wasn’t much else in the wallet or the bag except for some credit cards, cash, and more of what was probably work. He scanned all the papers on his table and furrowed his eyebrows; they all seemed like English essays. He flipped through his planner, mainly finding things about meetings, appointments, work to finish, and so on.

Closing the planner, Mingyu looked on his desk. On it was a wristwatch that read 2:30pm, and there were also a couple picture frames. One picture seemed to be his family, and another one was him with that same man he saw in the picture frame downstairs. Clearly this guy was someone important to him. Mingyu squinted, what were they? Friends? Lovers? Wait… did he even like men? He wanted to scream, he didn’t know. He simply didn’t know. He couldn’t remember anything no matter how hard he tried; and every answer he found, just brought up 5 more questions about himself.

He paced the room; there was no phone charger to be found anywhere that he might as well give up. He walked towards the large glass doors of his bedroom that led to a balcony and gave a serene view of the beach and ocean.

He stepped out onto the balcony silently watching seagulls swooping through the sky in the distance, and for the first time that day, Mingyu finally felt calm. Not happy, not relieved… Just calm. His facial features relaxed into an introspective stare as he watched the rush of waves in the ocean. He was becoming more and more aware of an aching emptiness that filled him inside and out. Only now, in the blank state of his mind was he noticing the loneliness that pooled into the depths of his chest like black ink; as if it had been there this whole time, but he only noticed it now.

"What an awfully big house only for me.” Mingyu murmured as he gazed across the horizon once again.

Maybe there was someone coming to stay in that other bedroom, he pondered as his eyes trailed back to the photo of that man on his desk. He shook his head with a sigh and made his way back downstairs, moving towards the areas of the main floor that he hadn’t looked at yet. He located another room that only had about 4 things: a piano, a desk with two odd and old looking identical lamps, and a chair. At the corner of the peculiar room was a wooden door with a small window. Mingyu walked to that door and peered out. He saw stone steps leading to huge patio with a pool.

“Wow” he breathed, and laughed at himself. He was impressed with his own house. Or was this really his house? Judging by the photos and bedroom he assumed it must be.

He then walked into another room across the hallway that contained a grand looking TV, some more sofas and a small tea table with a rotary phone. “What the hell” he whispered out loud.

It was 2017 right? But then again, the house did seem unusually old fashioned. Other than the electronic appliances, there were items such as candle lit lamps, old-fashioned fabric couches, and even an ancient looking TV set upstairs. He decided to try using the rotary phone (something he surprisingly knew how to do) but it refused to work. “Great,” Mingyu muttered. One phone was dead, and another was broken.

He sighed and wandered back to the room where he had first woken up, and collapsed on one of the couches. He hung his head back and closed his eyes. He knew he should probably go outside and look for signs of human life but honestly, he was too tired for all of this. He might as well just head out tomorrow. He could go find a clinic as well, and look for some way to retrieve his memory. As for now, he just hoped that there was enough food in the fridge for lunch and dinner. Well as it turns out, there was a nice cold turkey sandwich sitting in the fridge, which he proceeded to immediately scarf down.

The afternoon bled blankly into evening with Mingyu simply sitting around flipping through TV channels. He felt exhausted, and in all honesty, a little frightened. It was just him in this big house and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Eventually, he changed into the first pair of pajamas he could locate in his closet and crawled into bed. He sat there for a while staring wide-awake at the dark ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

Intrusive and unnerving thoughts clouded him about his memory and if he was ever going to get it back. The back of his eyes stung and threatened to spill with all of his pent up confusion and frustration built from today. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

Was that too much too ask?

Maybe it was...

Because the next day didn't get any easier.

The second time Mingyu woke up, he was once again on a scratchy woolen carpet with a chandelier dangling above him. He lay there lazily for a bit staring at the chandelier when all at once yesterday’s memories came flooding back and it immediately snapped him upright. The familiar feeling of panic and confusion closed up his throat when he looked back down at his clothing, his vision going in and out of focus momentarily.

He was no longer wearing his pajamas or sleeping on his bed as he had done last night. Instead, he was right back to the way he first woke up: in the middle of a living room, wearing a loose blue shirt with mismatched buttons and dark black jeans. Mingyu staggered to stand up, his head feeling strangely heavy as he frantically tried to come up with all the possibilities as to what had happened. Did he sleep walk into this situation and even change back to these clothes in his sleep? The idea seemed so ridiculous, but he couldn’t find any other way to explain this.

The day felt so hauntingly familiar and reminiscent of what he had already experience prior; the same cool breeze of wind ruffled the curtains and the sun shone gently, hanging high above the sky. It felt like mid-afternoon, which made no sense either... he couldn’t have slept for so long. Mingyu’s eyes immediately went to the picture frame. It was upright again; no longer face down the way he thought he had left it yesterday.

His legs shook as he made his way through entranceway leading to the kitchen only to see those same two apples sitting on the table by the sunlight. He ruffled his hair out of frustration straining to recall everything he did yesterday. He was positive that he had eaten one of the two apples, so why?... He was still lacking memories beyond anything that had occurred yesterday, but now he was starting to doubt himself.

Was this all just an absurd dream?

If so, then he wanted to wake the hell up. Mingyu pinched himself a little too hard than he had intended and yelped in pain. Ok no, this definitely felt real.

In a rush he ran upstairs into his bedroom only to see his pajamas neatly folded and back in his closet. He sat at the edge of his bed unsure of what to do with himself and how to make sense of any of this. Beside him on the ground he noticed how all of the contents he had taken out of his bag the evening before, were back inside the bag as if it had never been touched. Glancing quickly at the digital clock on his desk, it read “2:10pm”.

“Holy ” he breathed. He recalled that yesterday, when he came up here for the first time the clock read 2:30pm. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together after that. He had spent about 20 or so minutes looking around downstairs yesterday…. which meant today he had woken up at the exact same time. It was like everything had reset to the moment he first remembered: waking up downstairs.
But what on earth did that mean? He didn’t know. Was he hallucinating? Was this all just an illusion?

Mingyu clenched his jaw. That’s it. He had had enough. He needed to get out of this creepy ing place as quickly as possible.

He grabbed his bag and ran downstairs to the kitchen and opened to fridge, grabbing that turkey sandwich that magically seemed to have reappeared, despite Mingyu being positive that he had that digested that thing hours ago. Of course, his dead phone was sitting back on the counter as well. Shoving whatever he could in his bag, Mingyu took off towards the grand double doors of the house. Grabbing the door handle, he suddenly slowed down and a wave of nervousness washed over him. What would he see outside? Did his neighbours know him? What was he thinking leaving anyway…? The spark and bravery he had felt just moments ago, fizzled out like a candle dunked in water and he felt himself shrink with anxiousness and worry, his fingers lightly trembling on the door handle.

“Ah it” he muttered and pulled open the door, stepping out into the bright sunlight.

Mingyu wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but he definitely envision something so seemingly normal.

His home seemed to be in a very secluded and peaceful location, as he could spot no other houses around him. On his porch was a blue bicycle that looked a little beat up. There was a stone tiled pathway leading from the porch to a fancy looking iron gate that fenced the house. T