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The entire subway station was empty, at least as far as she could see. She didn’t remember a thing. Not how she got there or what had happened before that, she wasn’t even sure she remembered her own name. Her whole memory seemed foggy. When she tried to move she realized how weak she was. Her body felt heavier than it used to, at least she thought it did.

It was confusing how everything seemed so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. It was like being in a dream, where everything was as it was supposed to be and yet completely different.

She looked around and walked back to the staircase, which was the exit of the station. Nobody seemed to be there either. The whole place was deserted and there was no sound to be heard.

When she tried to climb the stairs, she noticed the pain in her knee. While she was walking it must have been there too, but not prominent enough to be noticed.

Gingerly she touched it and tried to feel where the pain was coming from, but she had no clue. She didn’t remember hurting herself.

It took a lot of effort to humble up the staircase. When she reached the halfway point she shouted for the first time.

„Hello? Is there anybody? I could need some help!“

She waited for a while, but the only answer was silence. With effort she reached the top of the staircase. The silence unnerved her. It was a dead silence. It lacked all natural sounds too, like the whispering of the wind.

She exited the station and stood on an empty street. There was no one walking or driving and even the shops where closed or at least they looked like they were closed.

A while she just stood there in the middle of the street and looked around. Then she started to walk again, slowly toward the shop fronts to her left. There was a shop window with different items of clothing and one with a variety of books in it. She walked along the street and shouted a few more times.


„Is there somebody?“


Her voice grew weaker every time she was met by silence.

It was frustrating to be so alone and she couldn’t quite handle it. Meanwhile her memories started to come back, at least some. She remembered her name, it was Angela Maurice, and she remembered her family, or at least she thought it was her family. She remembered a young boy hopping up into her arms and a man standing in a doorway watching them. She remembered a flat with light colored furniture and white walls.

Her head started to ache and her knee throbbed a lot more now that she was walking. On the corner of the street was a little Café with flowers in the windows. Hesitantly she tried to open the door and it did. She entered the room and nearly screamed.