Fiction: A woman wakes up confused in a hospital and realises that she has no idea who she is

In the beginning it was all slow and gentle. Sounds drifted into my awareness, gathering strength and definition: quick, light footsteps separated by the rustle of cloth, clicks and small thumps, and soft voices whispering in the dark. Then, as my vision improved, I began to see blurs in a light tinged with blue. As the darkness lifted, my vision grew sharper, and the white of a ceiling appeared, with a dusty yellow fan spinning directly above. There were smells, too, strong, some unfamiliar, but bringing disease and injury to mind.

And then came a rushing thirst, all-consuming, a force I couldn’t resist. When I tried to ask for water, I found I could only moan through a swollen, dry, painful throat. Someone must have heard my distress, for a dark face moved into my field of vision. Whoever it was seemed to understand, for I felt the cool rim of a glass at my lips, and I drank. A few grateful sips was all I could manage before my throat closed up. By then the fire had eased of and already the comfort of darkness was returning and I sank into it with relief.

I awoke quickly the next time, to...

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