In the ward, aside from Yale Allen, the patient, there was only Zoey Allen present.
"Do you remember how you got hurt?"
Yale Allen's head was wrapped in bandages, his face devoid of color, and as he half-lay there with lowered eyes, he was still rather composed, "The rope slackened while I was climbing."
Zoey Allen knew the point at which his memory had paused.
The first day of summer break in his eighth grade.
Zoey Allen succinctly summarized the current situation, "You've lost your memory. The climbing accident happened seventeen years ago."
Jumping from fourteen to thirty-one years old in a flash was like a forced growth spurt.
Amid his confusion, Yale Allen could only feel the absurdity of the situation. If it weren't for the burning pain at the back of his head, he might have thought this was all a dream.
"How did I lose my memory?"
