Dori

Curled up on the cold floor, the breeze blowing strongly against my hypothermic body; I struggled to open my glued, shut eyes. And like wind against chyme, I felt a hand tap me softly on my shoulders. And in that moment my eyes opened slightly to a brightness I could not comprehend.
Then I heard the words: “Miss, are you okay?”

I sat up confused and with no clue as to where I was, I looked up and saw a storey building and on it was a sign that read: “San Hose Hospital.”

While I was still trying to comprehend what was going on, I heard those words again, “Miss, are you okay, what’s your name?” Then it dawned on me that I couldn’t remember my name, or how I got there, or the day before, I couldn’t remember anything aside waking up in front of that hospital.

A lot of questions ran through my mind. Who am I? What happened to me? Why am I on the floor?

It was in that moment that I noticed a note crumpled in my palm, I raised it up in an attempt to read its content. It read:

“Call this number 2546-7894-4335.”

Eager to know who I was, I got up on my feet, looked at the young man standing by my side and realised he had been asking me questions. I looked in his fiery brown eyes and said, “Can I use your cell phone please?”

He dipped his hands into pocket of his blue denim jean and brought out his phone and handed it to me. I dialed the number on the paper, explaining my current ordeal.

In response the still baritone voice on the other end replied, “Where are you?” I told him and he said he’d be right there.

He arrived few minutes later and met me at the cafe opposite the hospital, and escorting me to the car, he said “Madam, your name is Dori, and you have a memory disorder, I am your driver and you told me to come pick you up whenever it happened.”

Lost as I still was, we drove off into the wind.

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