When I wake, I see the same male nurse who carried me from the medical pod to my room the first time around. Once again, he’s doing the same thing, which makes me fuzzily wonder if I’m having a dream or if this is déjà vu. Either way, I slip my slim arms around his neck to keep myself steady as he carries me to a room, lays me down in bed, and murmurs, “We have to stop meeting this way." He gives me a small smile as he gently caresses my hair, then leaves. I’m exhausted, so it doesn’t take long before I fall asleep.

The next morning, I wake when a nurse came in to check on me, then asked in a bright tone, “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Mhmm,” I murmur. Then I ask, “Why am I here?”

She pauses and turns to look at me. “Don’t you remember?” I shake my head. “You fell off your bike and hit your head.”