You don’t remember anything. Your past, your present, where you came from, where you are. Nothing. All you know is the cold surrounding you and the staleness of the air. You tremble a little, feeling like a newborn deer, lost and alone. A white, linen nightgown is on your skin, but it feels invasive and itchy. Somehow, you can already feel holes on the three-quarter sleeves, like moths have eaten through it. It’s uncomfortable, which you somehow know. As you open your eyes, you see a worn ceiling, with aged white trim. The ceiling itself has a yellowish-cream tint to it, like the walls around it. But your vision is blurry, as if you’re seeing for the first time. And really, you are. You can’t really remember seeing anything before this at all.

The next thing that tunes in is your hearing, as you hear a woman speak. “Oh, you’re awake.” The voice whispers, sounding slightly awestruck, yet cautious. Moving your limbs feels hard, like you’ve forgotten it a little bit. But once you manage to tilt your head, you’re met with a giant. A giant woman in an aged white gown with a large black flower pinned on it. She also has a diamond necklace, pearl earrings, a wide brimmed, black sun hat, and white heels. Her hair is short and cropped, black as night, and her skin is deathly pale. Her face is detailed with small wrinkles, and holds an expression of pity and worry. And you feel very, very confused.