They're skeptical.
I get it; it's unbelievable.
Yes, I lost my memory. No, I don't have a clue what I was up to last week. And sadly, I did not get my memory back overnight like some sort of amnesiac superhero.
I tell them that the doctor said they need to handle me with care.
They nod along, making sympathetic noises before jumping right into questions about work. It's a good thing I busted my butt preparing. But all the attention makes me anxious, like I'm under a microscope. I put on a fake smile, faking a confidence I don't feel.
"Luce, can you check if my feature matches the design now?"
"Luce, did you sort that copy issue I showed you?"
Posts-its and papers flap in my face. Laptop screens are set down in front of me because people need answers.
Heads peer down at me from all
