When I went back to the hospital, Kim was sleeping again. She slept a lot, apparently it helped for memory recovery. For me, it only meant I could see her face not frowning. That's how she always was around me. She frowned because she was trying hard to remember. I hoped this photo album would help.

I set it on her bedside table and sat in the chair. I don't know how long I stayed there for, but I was there when the nurses came in to check on her, and then when she finally woke up.

Her lashes fluttered. Her waking up was routine. She would wake up remembering nothing, then slowly, recent memories will come back to her until she goes too far into the past and she's met with a blockade—the day of the accident. And then she becomes confused, a state in which she stays in until she sleeps again.

When her eyebrows furrowed, that's when I knew she had gotten to that last stage. She looked around and found me. She pursed her lips.

She reached for her glass of water and she was surprised when what she touched wasn't the bumpy plastic cup, but a canvas cover. She followed her hand with her eyes and found the book.

She forgot her thirst momentarily as she turned to the first page. "Is that.... Me?" she asked, pointing to a photo. It was black and white, right in the center was an adorable little baby girl in a little dress and a baby boy in a mini suit.

"Probably." I said. "I found this in your room, so..."

I watched her flip through the album like it was a