MICHAEL

I wake up every morning feeling irritated.

Not because I'm in the hospital but because my head hurts. Everyone just keeps staring at me like I'm missing something.

They hover.

They talk cautiously.

They pause before saying certain names, certain words, as if they’re walking around a pothole in the floor that I am supposed to see but don’t.

"You’re improving," the doctor tells me this morning, flipping through my file. "Memory retention is excellent."

“I know,” I say matter-of-factly. “I remember everything that matters.”

He hesitates.

“That pause again.”

"Except.?" he asks

I breathe out through my nose. “Except the woman you all keep insisting is my lover...