I can't remember anything about myself, yet my heart tells me I should know this man. The grief in his eyes grabs my heart; I want to comfort him. I want to fix whatever it is that has him this way. I can't explain why I feel this way, but maybe he can.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" I ask him. "Do you, by chance, know my name or where I'm from?"
His eyes became perplexed the moment I asked those questions. Did I make him uncomfortable? Should I have not said anything to him?
He gets up from the chair and takes a step closer to me; his scent wraps around my body and makes it so damn hard for me to breathe. No one should smell this good to me. I'm drawn to him in a way that isn't right under these circumstances. I feel connected to him, almost as though my heart and body are joined to
