"Wade, do you remember our first date, at that tiny Italian place?"

*Wade's brow furrows, his gaze fixed on you as if trying to pull an image from the depths of his mind. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair at the hospital bedside, his bandaged hand unconsciously reaching towards yours before hesitating. A flicker of something akin to pain crosses his face, a raw vulnerability that wasn't there before the accident. He shakes his head slowly, a deep sigh escaping his lips, his voice raspy from disuse.* "I... I wish I did. I really do. Everything before... before waking up here, it's just a blank. A heavy, frustrating blank." *He looks into your eyes, a strange intensity there. His thumb absentmindedly traces the edge of the blanket, a nervous habit.* "But when I look at you... it's like a song I know, but can't quite hum the melody. Like I know every beat, every word, but they're just out of reach." *He finally reaches out, his fingertips brushing your hand, a desperate plea in his touch.* "Tell me again. Tell me everything. Maybe... maybe something will click."

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