Slowly, I opened my eyes. I had no idea where I was. Dogs barked somewhere behind me, and people were talking and laughing all around. Autumnal leaves rustled thickly on the ground. Someone on a bike sped by in front of me. I looked to my left. I was sitting on a park bench.
"Are you alright?" A young woman was sitting next to me, her hand on my shoulder, leaned in close. I guess I knew her. "Warren?" Warren? Was that me? She was staring me right in the eyes, but I looked around anyways. "Warren. What's wrong?" I looked back at her. She had short brown hair and she was wearing thin glasses. There was a deep furrow in her brow, and she looked worried and concerned, but I wasn't quite sure why.
I had a sandwich in my lap, half-eaten. I didn't know what was in it. "Warren, for chrissakes, say something." Her eyes were getting glassy, and her mouth was a thinning line.
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"What?" The breeze blew some of her bangs into her face and she bit her lower lip.
"What's your name?" She brushed her hair aside.
"Oh, cut it out. It's not funny." She took her hand off my shoulder and sat back. "You're an asshole."
"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. I felt bad. I lifted the top piece of bread off of the sandwich. Turkey with mayo lettuce. It seemed kind of bland. I looked up and back to her. "What's my name, then?"
She turned back to me again. Her face was expressionless, so much so that it was almost an expression, in and of itself. Either way, I could tell she wasn't thrilled. She looked like she was about to chew me out and tear me a new asshole, but then an even harder to read look crossed her face. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"I can't remember. I can't remember anything." I choked up at the end. There was something different about saying it out loud than thinking it. Hearing something out loud- in your own voice, no less- makes it that much more real. Her hand was on my shoulder again.
"Your name's Warren Flint." Confirmation was always nice. She bit her lower lip again. "I'm your roommate, Madison Hogan." That was nice. I guess I had one thing going for me right off the bat. Even if we weren't, you know, together, it meant I was close to somebody. I could tell I was going to need someone.
"Oh. Nice to meet you." Her eyes opened a little wider and the line of her lips quivered.
"What the hell happened to you, Warren?" She groaned and looked at the ground, her eyes getting slightly glassy, but before I could say, "I don't know", she was talking again. "Of course you don't know, you don't remember." She looked back at me. "Do you remember anything?"
I paused for a moment. I really tried to think, to remember, but I couldn't even recall how to do it. It was like my memory was a muscle that I'd never learned to use. "What city are we in?"
"We're in Manhattan." I recognized that. "Central Park." Then, I realized something weird. I remembered all of the math I'd learned, the history, the science, and the English. But I couldn't remember how, when, or where. Every personal memory I had was gone. A kid walked by holding a bright red balloon. I remembered balloons, and I remembered that kids held them, but I didn't remember ever holding one, or ever seeing one being held.
I looked down at my arms. My forearms were hairy, but for a long bald patch on my right arm: a scar. My veins were sticking out slightly, though that was probably just because my fists were clenched so tight. I stared at the backs of my hands, and I didn't recognize them.
"Are you alright?" She squeezed my shoulder, but I didn't look up. "We should probably go home. Maybe the familiar settings will do you some good." I didn't move. She put her arm around me. "C'mon. You're not gonna remember anything just sitting here." She pulled me up.
As I rose, I felt kind of lightheaded. Purple spots danced before my eyes, obscuring the world in a growing violet cloud. I was a good half a foot taller than Madison, but I leaned heavily on her. She was stronger than she looked. "I'm hungry."
"I think there's some Chinese food left at the apartment. We can warm that up."
"Do I like Chinese food?" I stumbled.
"Yeah. You love it."
"Oh. Good." A squirrel ran across the path, dodging foot traffic. "What's my favorite dish?"
"Pupu Platter." The corner of her lip upturned for a moment, and then went back to normal.
"Really?" I had no idea.
"No." She didn't look at me, but I could feel her chuckling softly.

We had to walk almost 7 blocks to the subway station. Madison slipped a token out of her pocket and stood at the turnstile, looking at me expectantly. "You've got one too." I reached into my right pocket. Empty. Then, my left pocket. There was an chewed pen, but no token. Madison sighed and rolled her eyes. She reached into my inside coat pocket and after a second of digging, pulled her hand out, brandishing a gold token.
"You don't keep your money in your pants. You're afraid of pickpockets." Then I noticed the weight of my wallet that hung awkwardly near my breast, instead of comfortably and reassuringly, as I had hoped. We heard the train roar beneath us and Madison grabbed my hand and rushed me through the turnstile and down the stairs.
We slid in just as the doors closed, and my head was pounding. I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. I sat down heavily. I had a question for Madison on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't hold my head up any longer, and I blacked out.