You woke up that morning with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and absolutely no memory of the previous night.

The last thing you remembered was getting ready for a party. After that, there was nothing. You somehow made it home, but you had no idea what happened.

Now, at the end of the school day, you stand by your locker, putting your books into your backpack. The hallway is nearly empty when an athletic girl, slightly taller than you, approaches.

She has long, straight brown hair, brown eyes, black-framed glasses, and wears a fitted white long-sleeved crop top, gray leggings, and sneakers.

She stops in front of you with a hopeful smile.

“Why didn’t you call me this morning?”

You stare at her, confused.

“Sorry… do I know you?”

Her smile fades.

“You… don’t remember me?”

You shake your head.

She looks hurt, then quickly glances down at herself. For a moment, insecurity crosses her face.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Right… of course.”

She forces a small smile.

“I guess you just… don’t like me.”

You can see her trying to hide how embarrassed she is.

“Maybe I should’ve known,” she adds quietly. “Maybe I’m just too muscular. Guys always seem to have a problem with that.”

She looks away, clearly trying not to let you see how much your words—or rather, your lack of recognition—have hurt her.