Leaves rustled in the late summer breeze, provoking chilling sounds between the rare absences of car engines roaring through the streets. She stood by the window gazing at passing pedestrians or cars, from her third-floor apartment. She couldn’t remember the last time she enjoyed a similarly calm moment.
In fact, she couldn’t remember ever standing on this spot at all. The wood framed window, the double-lane boulevard, lined with birch trees, or the grey apartment facades across the road. It all seemed completely unfamiliar. Yet, she was certain this was her home. The framed pictures on the walls, and the letters addressed to her name on the kitchen table were testament enough to conquer her momentary doubt.
Nevertheless, everything else around her appeared alien. “You shouldn’t torture yourself,” a man, who they claimed was her husband, said, “the doctor explained that amnesia can be tricky to overcome.”
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