I feel a jolt and I come to my senses in a small box, my mouth sucking in air, my mind immediately making a list of what could have happened .. I know these words, somehow, even though my mind has never said them before. I know the definitions, I know the context, I know the grammar and syntax. These words dance in my head, in the darkness and calm of this box.Box. Name. Rigid container generally rectangular with or without a lid. An open cargo container of a vehicle. Coffin. Am I in a coffin? I don't think it's a coffin. It's too rectangular, and I'm not dead, nor am I arranged as if someone thought I was dead. I'm standing. But I don't remember anything from the past. I don't know if I have a future. The box has a lid. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but I know; I know there is light flooding this box. I see a face. A human face. Humanity. Name. The state or quality of being human. The state or quality of being generous or friendly toward people or animals. All humans. Why can't I remember if I'm part of this "All Humans"? Why don't I remember anything? My mind has listed many possibilities, but none are plausible. I open the mouth I know I have to have. It creaks like my jaw has never been opened, or like it's old. But since I don't remember anything, it must have never been opened. Unless I'm just suffering from amnesia. Amnesia. Name. Memory loss often due to brain injury, shock, fatigue or illness. An empty space in memory. Omitting, ignoring or forgetting events that are not useful to life. No. No. Why am I in a box? “He doesn’t speak,” said the face. His lips move several seconds before I hear the words,...... middle of paper ......e in the sound between my lips and ears. I head for the door not caring if my senses ever malfunction. I just want to escape these people who think they treat me well, but see me as less than humanity. I know what humanity is now. It's not something that can be defined in a few short words. These are all the flaws, perfection and feelings that make up life. I'm sure I don't need to be human to feel it. By the way, what is humanity? Emilia rushes to hand me a bag full of things and something else – a textbook. Telling me how to act like a human being, I'm sure. She says she's sorry. I feel moisture coming from my eyes, then I feel something more: an uncomfortable feeling of pain that makes my insides vibrate. It makes me want to run, get out of that door and live without any of this. I take the bag. I make my way out of this door. I run.