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I caught a glimpse of a yellow vest—theyellow vest.
That pulsing pain in my temple throbbed harder, faster.
Clenching the bag in my hand, I changed directions and followed the man wearing the vest. Could I be mistaken? I hung back, keeping the distance between us even as he walked down the hall.
The vest was ratty with the same gray stripes, confirming it was just like the one I’d been wearing that fateful day.
Had I been working here, in the building? If so, how did no one know who I was? How had my coworkers not reported my identity to the authorities who’d first arrived on the scene? If they had, the hospital would have been able to tell me who I was.
I sped up. My focus narrowed, pushing away everything other than the man in front of me.
I tried to swallow the raw feeling in my throat.
“Excuse me,” I said.
The man didn’t answer. I tapped his shoulder.
He pulled an earbud from his ear.
It felt like a vise was clamping down around my neck, choking me.
“Oh hey man, how’s it going?” He had an easy smile.
“Where’d you get that vest?” I asked.
“Uh, from the closet. They make me wear it.”
“Why?”
“So everyone knows I’m the guy who cleans the toilets. Capitalism, man. It sucks when you’re at the bottom.”
“Who cleans the toilets?” I asked.
He gave me a strange look. “Me.”
“Do we know each other?”
He looked me up and down slowly. “Nah. I don’t think so.”
“Does anyone else work here cleaning the toilets?”
“Nah, man. It’s all me.”
Hmm. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe this vest was common, and I needed to survey the other buildings in the area for janitorial positions. It was an occupation I hadn’t previously considered.
“Need anything else?” Vest guy held out his earbud, waiting for my permission to resume whatever it was he was doing.
“Thank you for your time. That will be all…” I said, pausing as I searched for a name tag on his vest.
“How very official of you.” He chuckled and shook his head. “The name’s Tristan. My name tag got stolen like a week ago or something. Maybe it was less. I don’t know. Time’s not really my strength, man. You know?”
Automatically, a non-committal noise bubbled up my throat. My heart pounded harder and harder against my ribcage.
“The dude who got hit in the head with a hammer took it,” Tristan said. “You hear about that? I hear he died.”
Ihad taken it. I’d stolen his vest. Everything I knew about myself, everything that had happened since I woke up in the hospital was a lie.
My ears rang. My vision swirled. I felt like an MMA bout was happening in my chest. It wasn’t quite over, but with me left woozy and stumbling, it was crystal clear that I’d already lost.
