Outside. A dopplelganger version of my past comes knocking. Her voice, cancerous, breaking under the pressures of old cries. "Why'd you have to go do that? Why'd you have to go kill everyone I ever loved, huh?"

I have no answer for her. Not today. Not tomorrow. Her question is my question. A question I have been asking myself... every other second of my weary existence. There has never been an answer. Never.

I am tired. I am so ing tired... of everything. I close my eyes. If only death played easy to get. If only...

"Hey mister... hey mister!" She continues rapping her white knuckles on the passenger door. "Do ya got a cig?"

I open my eyes to see her. I see her without seeing her. Why the am I here? Why the is anyone here? 

Outside. The cold night breeze picks up, tugging at my collar, pulling me towards the dreadful truth... that everyone I ever loved is dead.

Long gone.

Okay, thanks. No need to ing remind me.

Inside. I search for a distraction. To get away from the noise of the street. Her backless dress is sea green tonight... with eyes dark, hair dark, contrasting against white skin.

And so begins my story game. I play. Giving her a name: 'Ning.' Giving her a profession: struggling actress. Giving her a reason to be here: none.

I sip.

Her lips seem to wish for nothing but service. Her arms uncross and cross again.

I sip. One more sip before standing. As I draw near her, I go over the things I want to say in my head.

"Hi, I saw you from across the room and I thought—I thought—I'm Jin." It does not come out exactly the way I want it to.

I will be ignored. Definitely ignored. And ignore me, she does. For quite some time. I start to lose hope. Wait, did I ever have hope to begin with? But then, by some miracle, she notices me... from the corner of her almond-shaped eyes. She turns her head and... . I gag. Is that her perfume?  What the ? Why would she wear that scent on her body? Why?

"Do you know me?" She seems slightly annoyed by my lingering presence.

"No... but I—" An itch in my throat interrupts me and I cough. "I want to—" I cough again.

"Do you know my name?" She asks the question, allowing it to fall into place, directly following the first. I should really say 'no.' The reasonable response here would be 'no.'

But, the prominent lines in her face, the fierce glint in her eyes, they demand something more than a simple 'no.' Despite playing the game, I draw a complete blank. I cannot seem to think straight.

Ning. Jing. Ling.

Why can I not think straight?

She stands up and discards her cigarette in the dirty ashtray. . She is ignoring me again.

A name. I need a name. Quick.

"Hitoya."

My last second guess sparks an subtle smile, re-igniting lost interest.

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

Of course. Of course. I know my own name. It's... it's...

Jin. Fin. Tin.

. Why can I not remember my name?

"Do you know your name?" She repeats herself.

I still. My name. It quite escapes me. But how? How is this possible? How is this ing possible?

"It's Won. Won Knight." Her whispers tickle my ears. "We are made a pair, you and I."

And as she breathes into me, I stare into her eyes. Captivating. Passionate. Hijacking my mental stability. Gentle. Her fingers graze the side of my neck. "Shall we go on a trip?"

Yes. Of course. Of course. "Where to?"