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Aysel: Mason's Visit

I drift back to the conscious world with a throbbing headache. Not sure, when I had fallen asleep while parsing through scientific journals on selective amnesia, but I did and slept in an awkward position which is now making all my muscles protest loudly as I sit up. My laptop is still open, but black. I sigh and close the lid.

I did not find anything fruitful in the papers and none of them even mentioned any kind of bleeding associated with amnesia.

My phone chimes somewhere from under my pillow. I grope for the device until I find it wedged between the headboard and the mattress. How the Hell did it go there?

The text is from Mason.

[Be there at 11.]

My eyes dart towards the clock on the top left of the screen. 09:00 AM.

There are also two missed calls from the reception desk of the medical center.

“Fuck.” I hurry out of bed, ignoring the lancing pain that shoots from my right leg up. Why a I falling behind in every aspect of my life?

I manage to wrestle into some decent clothes. Ta
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