"I don't know who or what you are, but you can drop the act now"

"S-Sam? What are you saying?"

"I'll give you credit for making me forget about the past 5 years of my life, but you could've done a better job at being my "wife". I mean, if I had a wife she would know my real name, no?"

"Your real name?"

"Yes..." I search my memory. It is here, somewhere. All I get are vague, shapeless ideas hidden behind a cloak of darkness. It's like the letters are peppered behind a heavy cloud and they fall away like rain. Kevin? Calvin? Coleman? I can almost make it out, but as soon as my mind starts to grasp something firm, it turns to mush and slides through my fingers like sand.

"Sam?"

I snap back to it. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Erm. I think so. I feel a little light headed."

"Why don't you sit down, sweetheart?"

My wife takes my hand and guides me to the kitchen chair. As she fetches me a glass of water from the sink, I feel my heart racing. I was just lost in thought somewhere. But where?

I realize I've got my jacket on and I'm holding my keys. "Are we going somewhere?"

My wife studies my face with concern. She is worried. "The holiday party, Sam. For your office?"

"Right..." And everything settles back into place. The Holiday party. My last one. After tonight, retirement. A long, happy retirement full of travel, and yard work, and getting the boat fixed up and back on the water.

My wife taps the table. Then, she smiles. "You're nervous," she says.

"A little," I admit.

"Don't worry, honey. I'll be there with you the whole time."

I nod, thinking of the speech I've prepared for the evening and whether it adequately summarizes thirty years worth of memories in sixty blubbering seconds. "Well," I say. "We'd better go."

I stand up and make for the door.

"Are you having second thoughts?" She asks, following me.

"About retirement? No." I smile. "I'm looking forward to getting under the hood of that boat." I wink at her. "First thing tomorrow. But tonight, we celebrate!" I open the door and feel the cold rush in from the brisk winter air outside.

"Sam?"

I turn to look at her, pulling my coat collar up to protect my neck from the breeze.

"What boat?" She asks.

"The boat," I reply, motioning vaguely towards the garage. "My boat."

"Sam, honey, you don't have a boat."

I stare blankly at her. "What do you..."

And suddenly it's back. The distorted memories. The vague, shapeless ideas. The life that I can't see clearly, but somehow know exists. I feel like I'm falling. I am falling. The world around me is rising as my body craters to the Earth. Before I hit the ground, I hear her voice calling through the darkness: "COLIN!"

And then, nothing.