The cat looked up at me, its eyes reflecting light back to mine. Cats have mirrors in their eyes; did you know that? It's how they see in the dark. Amazing. I need a flashlight.

"Lost, little one?" I asked the cat, or perhaps myself. Who knew?

The cat only meowed and turned around, disappearing into a night as black as its fur. As black as my soul.

I don't know where I got the idea that my soul is dark, but I'm more certain of it than anything else in this world. Of course, I don't remember what I did, but that's not surprising. I don't remember where I came from, either, or who my parents were, or where I learned that cats have mirrors in their eyes. I don't remember anything, not even my own name.

I know three things about myself for certain, though, besides that my soul is dark:

I am five and a half feet tall. I measured. Or perhaps the tape was wrong. Two things.

My hair is brown. Or is it? Perhaps I dyed it. One thing.

I like cats.

There's no other explanation for it, really. I felt nice when I saw that cat, and sad when it turned and walked away from me. I wanted to pick it up and bury my face in its fur and just sit down on the cold ground next to that dumpster over there and pet it for a good long while. Perhaps my memories would come back if I did.

But if that is so, then perhaps it's best the cat walked away. I'm not sure I want to remember who I was and what I did. I've done horrible things, that much I'm certain of.

Perhaps I chose this, chose to erase myself. Perhaps I wanted a fresh start, as a new person.

But you can't change who you are. If your soul is dark, and you've done horrible things, you'll carry that for the rest of your life..

Of this much, I am certain.