Sketches of body organs were sculpted on every leaf.
 "Found it." 
 He sighed and blasted the door of the cabinet.
 "Finally." 
 He yawned.
Her fingers continued moving on the pages. It was no surprise. Passion never died. It was part of the self. 
The heart, lungs, kidneys, eyes, and other organs of the body were serially sketched on the pad. Big applause cheered on her chest. 
She continued until the last leaf. The only difference of all sketches.
"Who is she?"
 She stopped. 
He stopped.
 "The who?" He hurried his feet towards her.
 ***
Dehamas Municipal Hall 
1:15 PM
"Apology for being too late, Frank."
Jasmine blurry heard the calloused mouthpiece before her consciousness went away. 
The surroundings were unheard of until she got back her senses in the broad daylight.
She woke up by the sun's rays kissing. It greeted her good morning. She met it back, eyeing its glowing radiance that was reflected by the window glasses. 
She brushed her eyes which glinted on the bright sun peripherally. She spread her arms on the bed and did her morning scratches and stretches. 
She was about to move up from bed when gravity pulled her back on the bed. She lost her balance. As the comfort cotton received her weight, she got back on to reality. 
Huh, she thought. 
She ventured my eyes everywhere. Curiosity hit on her belly.
Jasmine's notions were vacant. Where am I? Why am I here? What place is this? What just happened? 
Questions quickly sprinted on her mind blasting waves of unexplainable confusion, unanswered queries, and baffled wondering on her head. Her memory was lost. 
 She couldn't retrieve her previous mindfulness. She was mentally blocked. She couldn't think of yesterday— not with the previous days. 
 She was like a blank empty untainted sheet. Her memory was lost? She suffered memory loss again. This scenery made her a profound fool — a traveler without a compass— and even a map. 
Memory was the person's track of the past, but she didn't have any track anymore. Time merely rotted on its own. 
She was on the verge of losing hope.
"Apology for being late, Frank."
The last mouthpiece penetrated my eardrums. The words echoed back on her head repeatedly. She tried to search back on her head, hoping that it was a mere vivid dream and clear imagination.
"I wasn't hallucinating, right?"
She eyed the empty wall and the barren surroundings. She knew it. It was real. It was original. But, how and where could she trace it back?
"Why am I here?" she asked her foregoing mind.
The place was familiar. Its calming ambiance was familiar. 
It couldn't be a Deja Vu. Remember it, please. Please. Please. Please. 
Jasmine bumped her head on the headrests of the bed. She scrutinized herself. She was fully well-clothed, as what she remembered for the last time.
 "So, you're awake?" said a guttural manly voice behind her back.
She was awestruck. It wasn't a part of her expectation— perhaps, she expected none. Yet, her sense of awareness was gone. She looked back. There was none. 
She first guessed the voice was from behind — but was wronged— it penetrated from behind the walls. Jasmine made travel on her eyes across the entire unfertile area where she was the only cradled child. 
Still, there was none.
"Who are you?" Jasmine yelled across the entire arena. 
Her silvery voice oozed on her eardrums which made her not caring. Her eyes continued venturing across the four directions which revealed her none but emptiness. Her throat dried. 
The voice has no ear.
"Welcome home," it continued.
"Home?" she muttered to herself. 
Jasmine caught herself frailly cloaked in an uncontrollable unconscious shake. Her nose was not on its duty. It was shut down.
"Please suit yourself in here," the voice punctuated a pause.
"What? Where am I?" Jasmine yelled all over the silent strange atmosphere.
"The maids will arrive thirty minutes from now to prepare your bath.
Jasmine heard sounds of hissing, gasping, and breathing after the last word. Her instinct warned her of those pair of unseen gawks watching her every step, taking away her sensory organ's ability.
"Hey, I don't get it. You can't be kidding." Jasmine hissed although she knew no one would answer her. 
She leaped off the bed; her panic was slowly subordinating; she was now calmer, hence started tracking the origin of the voice.
Toot… Toot…
It was gone. The sound of the power off switch seemed to be heard as if someone shut down the source that broadcast the voice.
"Hey, come back," Jasmine yelled again— desperately.
"Hey, hey, hey."
She was in hysteria.
"You can't be kidding," she yelped.
"This is not my home. This is not my place. Take me back to the Al-Muzzinih. I don't belong here."
"I don't like it here," Jasmine shouted. 
She wouldn't give any single care. She desired to escape. She threw herself on the tiled white floor— seemed hopeless.
"Do you hear me? Let me goooooo..."
Jasmine's last word faded. She pulled her tongue a yelled again but she was already speechless. Her body felt weaker than the day she first felt a tint of despair— until it completely gave up pushing her trunk onto the floor. She laid her head. She rested on the floor, deeply sighing and
breathing. 
Her head was spreading smoothly on the floor as she felt her insides giving in— as if these were bustling and rambling— until her eyes gave in its saline fluid. 
A tear fell from her left eye. It flew down to her cheeks. 
Now, she knew that at last, she had given up everything on what fate had said. 
***
"What took you so long?" 
His voice rasped as he sipped the remaining coffee on his table. His throat felt the taste and aroma of the cream caramel.
He stopped by the door entrance. 
"I'm sorry."
"As always."
He grinned at the back.
He didn't reply but instead continued his feet towards him.
"Time is precious." 
He eyed the watch on his wrist, while he ignored him.
"And you should know that," he continued.
"She's awake."
He rushed his feet towards the screen monitor which displayed dull images parted in four squares that showed different chambers each, one was the kitchen, the other was the outside where the vast green garden could be veered, the other was the hall, while the last was a white
broad roam with a young maiden lying below.
"How long has she been like that?"
He gripped his hand on the table and then faced him.
The man in a tuxedo fixed his collar. He adjusted its circumference on his neck and kept his hands in position.
"The moment she wakes up."
He swiveled his chair and stood up strolling towards him.
The screen monitor displayed an image of a girl in a black hoodie jacket and black jeans barefooted. He scrutinized the image moving his eyes from the strands of her hair down to her barefoot. 
He looked closely at the monitor until he bumped across the edge of the table.
"Zoom it."
The cursor then pointed to a lying picture of the girl inside the empty white room.
She was awake, though he. He stopped when he recognized the fluid flowing from his eyes.
"It's obvious. She despises her."
"Well, we can't say that eventually. She still hasn't known us."
"Do we have to do this?" 
He put his hand on the mouse making him allow him to do his former duty. 
He maximized the image even more.