10.

Sitting on a bed in a hotel room with her knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, she looks up and to her left.

'Who are you?' she asks.

'Excuse me?' responds a guy who for the moment at least is going by the name Archer, it may be his name, it may not be his name, for now it is attached to him.

'I said who are you?' her voice loudens, more aggressive than what Henry has heard from her up to now. 'Who are you? How did you get here?' she gets up off the bed and begins thumping this Archer fellow on his chest area.

He backs away not knowing what to make of this. She keeps coming, thumping him more and with the bases of her clenched fists.

'Hey, hey ... what is wrong?' Henry asks manoeuvring himself in between Bonnie and Archer.

'Why did you bring him here? Tell me why?'

She stares Henry in the eyes for a moment then moves back upon the bed and back into the position she had previously been sitting in.

'Hey ... what was all that about?' asks Henry having moved to sit at the end of the bed.

A few seconds pass before Bonnie looks at Henry. 'What was what about?'

Henry turns to look at Archer and they both look at each other in amazement and at a loss to understand what has just happened. As the minutes pass on it becomes clear that Bonnie is unaware that her little outburst has occurred.

11.

'Sir ... excuse me ... I'm very sorry but you can't remain here.'

The voice of a young lady wakes him. She had been hesitant to try shaking him awake so she is more than thankful that her voice and words accomplished her goal.

'Where am I?' he asks as a pain in his head comes at him the instant he speaks.

He was about to attempt sitting up properly in the chair he finds himself in but the pain he feels all at once knocks him back and the opening of his eyes intensifies the pain.

'Sir, you are in the Open House Coffee House, and you have been asleep here at least two hours now ...'

'Two hours? I don't even know where here is ...' he says before groaning with the pain that has greeted him. '... You say I have been here two hours?'

'You have been asleep for at least that long. Do you need some help sir?'

'No, no ... thank you. I just need to get my bearings. I don't remember coming here.'

'Our staff do not remember you coming in sir. You have a coffee there ...' she points to the small square table before him. None of us here remember taking you order so maybe you came in with someone else? By the way sir, your coffee has to be freezing right now, we can get you a fresh one if you wish?'

'Sure, that would be great.'

'Awesome, what would you like sir?'

'Huh?'

'What kind of coffee would you like?'

Briefly thinking about it he has no idea what kind of coffee he would like. He has yet to think about anything else yet though that for that soon will come. The coffee before him is in a takeaway cup with a lid on it and indeed it is cold, it most likely once was hot but if he has been asleep for at least two hours and if the coffee has been on the table since before sleep came then it is obvious as to why it no longer is hot. It also appears that not even a sip had been taken from that drink, but what if he were already asleep before his current whereabouts had come to be?

What if someone had brought him here while he was already unconscious? If this were so, then someone surely would have taken notice.

He manages to sit up and move slightly forwards so he can remove the coffee cup lid and have himself a sniff of that cold coffee. Doing this does nothing as in if he can be sure or not as to if he likes the aroma he can get from his cold coffee.

'Any idea what this is or was.'

She takes a look and a sniff too. 'Possibly a latte with hazelnut syrup and chocolate carvings.'

'Sounds good to me, I'll have one of those please.'

'Hot?' she asks with a smile.

'Yes please ...' his attempt at a smile brings back his headache which since conversation had begun had in turn become a little easier to deal with.

It is here in a moment of quiet reflection that he has a moment or two to begin thinking, and quickly it is clear and obvious that what is going on is so much more than a how did I get here? And more than whom did I come here with? For here comes the dreaded ... who am I?

There is a name handwritten on that cold coffee take away cup which still rests in front of him, the name is Sander. Sander ... huh, it doesn't feel right, then again nothing feels right, if anything it all feels wrong. The name could belong to anyone especially if someone else had bought that now cold coffee. Something else hits, there must be a wallet; he can't be here without some sort of wallet in his pocket. Sure, he is going to need to pay for the coffee which soon will be coming his way.

There is something in his right pocket; this is obvious for he can feel the presence of that something without having to go rummage. Please be a wallet. A positive hopeful soon becomes a disappointing negative, not completely disappointing though disappointing all the same. There is a wallet in his pocket, a wallet with absolutely no bank cards. No Visa cards, no debit cards, no credit cards, no receipts, nothing with any sort of identification.

So, if he is or is not to anyone at all as Sander then he will have to at least wait an unknown amount of time to find out. In this brown leather wallet, there is cash and only cash and this is what makes the presence of a wallet to not be a complete disaster. There is indeed that cash, notes with no coins and enough notes to buy at least fifteen coffees if he so desires. One coffee for the moment will more than suffice; maybe he will get himself something to eat soon-ish but perhaps not quite yet.

Hopefully something will come back to him sooner rather than later, at such time food might become something to be thought about. There is brief panic, what if nothing comes? Don't be silly he tells himself, something will come, something must come, he just needs a few minutes, this is all.

As he contemplates all that there is or could be, he has a look out the glass panelled doors and the windows of this coffee shop. It looks like a pleasant day outside, bright, and warm and as he is indeed looking his attention is caught by someone passing in front of the store. A woman, an odd-looking woman wearing a white and red dress which comes down over her knees and white stockings which are worn to above the base line of that dress. Perhaps she is someone less od and just more out of place that has caught his attention.

This lady, her make-up is a bit of a mess and fairly soon she is out of sight having passed the coffee shop completely by. He thinks for a moment as to how odd she looked then thinks that he is one to be judging. With the current situation he is in it could be easily said that he is more than a little odd himself, perhaps he too is out of place.

His fresh coffee is brought to him, right at his small corner table in a large but currently quiet coffee shop. The table is small enough to sit just two people at most and indeed it is just himself in this current moment taking up this table and there is the likelihood there may have been another at some stage.

A big enough coffee shop it is that if it were busy, it may have been possible that he would go unnoticed for some time by the store staff. As it is, he has been noticed and had been let be for two hours.

How can anyone simply just contract amnesia, temporary amnesia he hopes, at a coffee shop? If he had come here of his own volition, then he hopes at least he did so willingly. Hopefully that first coffee had not been drugged though it did appear as if it had not been touched at all. Anyhow, she had made a return, the member of staff who woke him; he can see this lady he had previously been chatting with has a name badge with the name Mandy on it.

'Thank you, Mandy,' he says upon receiving this coffee and feeling somewhat glad that his headache is easing somewhat further and also glad that he can pay for his coffee.

'You're welcome, Sander, is it?'

'I am not sure to be honest. I am not quite feeling myself for some reason or another. Hopefully I will be back to normal when I get this into me.'

'Sounds more than a little bit serious if you are struggling to remember your name. Are you sure you don't require assistance, like a doctor or something?'

'I will get this into me first before I begin to worry. If nothing comes in the next few minutes, I may have reason to find help or at least to begin worry.'

'I'll come back and check on you in a little while, how does that sound?'

'It sounds like a plan thank you, I appreciate that ...'

'Alright enjoy the coffee and it all is good, coffee is on the house.'

Indeed, he has more than enough to pay for it, but he appreciates the gesture, she smiles and goes on about her work. His appreciative smile soon turns to a look of pure concentration. Yeah, he loses himself in a moment of consideration of all that might be.

Mandy is pretty, especially when she smiles. She is petite with a look which may suggest she can look after herself too if need be. Maybe she likes to look after others as well including lost causes and this may be why she appears to make herself available if he does need aid.

Sander, if this is his name, cannot help but feel at least a little bit of suspicion and he kinda dislikes himself for having this feeling. This Mandy lady is offering assistance and has got him coffee free of charge and he is feeling suspicious as if she possibly knows something about what is happening and has yet to disclose such, he should be feeling grateful that someone is willing to lend a hand to a complete stranger.

What if he is not a complete stranger? What if she does know more than she is letting on? He had to have gotten here some way or another and with this shop being a public place then his own arrival must not have been suspicious, but then again, who knows? He surely doesn't. He takes a sip of his coffee and to his amazement he likes it, he likes it a lot, perhaps this is his regular drink of choice.

As the seconds begin to pass by, his thoughts begin to wander. None of this makes sense. Memory loss, headache of the likes he woke with could be thought of being something which comes with some sort of head trauma but there is no evidence of this. There is no evidence of having received a blow.

Having got himself so lost within his own thoughts in the time since Mandy brought him coffee, Mandy needs to once again bring him out of it with her words.

'Sander ... hey Sander.'

It takes him a couple of seconds or so to realize he is being spoken to.

'Oh, hey.'

'Yeah, em your nose is bleeding.'

'What?'

'Your nose ... it is bleeding.'

He places two fingers in between his nose and upper lip and soon is surprised to see that there is blood, as if he didn't believe her words. She hands him some serviettes. It is a slow trickle and thankfully not a gush, but still.

'Use one of these and pinch your nose' she says 'then lean forwards. I think we need to call some help for you.'

'No, please. Not yet.'

'Hey, what is it going to take?' she asks having down onto her hunkers right next to him.

There is silence for a moment.

'Tell you what' she continues. 'If the nosebleed doesn't stop in two minutes, we will get you some help and if it does stop then I will personally take you to the hospital myself. I finish my shift in half an hour. How does that sound to you?'

Another slight pause, after which he agrees to what Mandy suggests. Whatever this is that is happening to him, maybe it is for the best that he concedes to it.