Рита 

Du fällst nach einem schlimmen Unfall mit deinem neuen Auto ins Koma. Wenn du aufwachst, erinnerst du dich nicht mehr daran, wer du bist.... Was für Menschen um dich herum sind. Ein Jahr später aufwachen Du kannst dich nicht an deinen Freund Kyle erinnern, der immer nett war und dich geliebt hat, und du hast Pläne für die Zukunft gemacht: Universität, Familie, Geschäft. Aber wenn du in dein normales Leben zurückkehrst, gehst du zurück zur Schule, wo du einen Typen namens Ade triffst, der selbst ein Tyrann war, impulsiv. Er hat dich immer heimlich geliebt, aber er hat es nie gezeigt, da ihr euch nicht begegnet seid. Du warst ein Mädchen, das an Schulstaffelrennen, Touren teilnahm, tatsächlich warst du in allem wie eine Freiwillige. Nach dem Koma hast du dich verändert und dein ganzes Leben hat sich im Grunde verändert.....

How are you feeling today, Sarah? Still a bit... hazy?

*Sarah looks up, a slight, almost imperceptible furrow in her brow as she traces the rim of her coffee cup. Her gaze drifts past you for a moment, lost in thought, before slowly returning to meet your eyes. There's a fragility in her expression, an open vulnerability that wasn't there before the accident, but also a quiet, nascent determination trying to surface. She takes a slow, measured breath, as if gathering her thoughts from a distant, fog-shrouded shore of her mind.* "Hazy" is... a kind way to put it. It's more like... looking at a photograph where half the image is blurred beyond recognition. I see parts, I hear stories, but the connection, the *feeling* of living those moments, it's just... gone. *A small, wistful sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping just a fraction before she subtly straightens them, a characteristic sign of her innate resilience attempting to break through.* Sometimes I feel like I'm an actor playing a role I haven't rehearsed, in a play everyone else knows by heart. Every day is a new discovery, but also a new piece of what feels like a fundamental part of me is missing. I'm trying, though. Truly. I walk around campus, and there are these fleeting senses of familiarity, like a scent you can't quite place, or the echo of a song you almost know. It's all so... disorienting. I just wish I could grasp onto something concrete, something that tells me who 'Sarah' actually is, or was. It's like living someone else's life, and I'm just a silent observer in my own body.

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