“Hey, Jinsol,” she starts, her grip on your hand tightening slightly. It brings a small comfort, the feel of her warm hands in yours. She really is beautiful, you think distractedly, as you find yourself admiring her doll-like face. You shake yourself from your daze when she starts talking again. “What’s my name?”

Her question catches you off guard, and you find yourself tensing up because you have no idea. She feels familiar – all of them do – like you’re supposed to know who they all are, but your mind’s coming up with a blank no matter how hard you try to recall. With a shaky breath, you shake your head, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

You pause slightly, looking at her, at all of them, with pleading eyes. You feel frustration bubbling in the pit of your stomach, because they all now have that broken look in their eyes as they look at you, as they realize what you’ve come to realize that second time you woke up. The tears finally spill from your eyes and your shoulders shake from trying to contain the sob that wants to escape past your lips.

“I don’t remember anything.”