Antonio was standing at the window of his hospital room watching the sights of children playing football, still unable to remember or understand anything. The doctor said he might remember gradually, but what if he never recovers his memories? Antonio sighed and went back to his bed. He was about to lie down when the door cracked open. A middle-aged man stepped into the room, his weathered face lined with concern. His clothes, though clean, bore the unmistakable signs of a life spent at sea—faded denim and a heavy flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms tanned by years under the sun. Beside him stood a woman, his wife, her expression a mixture of worry and curiosity. She clutched a worn leather handbag to her chest, her fingers fidgeting with the strap. “How are you doing, dearest?” She asked Antonio. Who was alerted by the sudden entrance of these strangers. He was a bit tense but managed to force a smile. “My head still hurts a little… sorry do I know you?” He asked softly with so much hope they would at least give him answers. “Thank goodness you made it, my wife and I were so worried about you”. The fisherman shouted in excitement, his voice gruff but kind. Antonio hesitated, unsure how to respond to a man who clearly knew him, yet was a complete stranger to him. “I’m…sorry…. I don’t remember anything,” he said sadly, his tone laced with frustration and confusion. “The doctor said I have memory loss.” The fisherman exchanged a glance with his wife, who stepped forward slightly, her expression softening with empathy. She covered her mouth with a hand and the other placed on her chest. “You don’t remember who you are?” she asked gently. Antonio shook his head with his eyes closed tightly, a hand on his head. “No, I don’t. The doctor said I was found with a gunshot wound… but I don’t know how it happened. What led to the gunshot, where I came from, anything at all…my mind is just ….” He opened his eyes widely. “Blank?” The fisherman sighed heavily. He stepped closer to the bed, his rough hands gripping the bed rail. “We found you on the shore. You were barely conscious, bleeding badly. We didn’t know who you were. My fellow fishermen suggested that you might be a dangerous man and that we should abandon you, but I am glad I didn’t take that advice. I brought you here to the clinic with the help of my wife.” Antonio tried to piece together the fragmented details, but it was like trying to assemble a puzzle with missing pieces. “Why… Why were you there? On the shore?” “We are fishermen, we went to the shore to set traps”. The fisherman explained gently. “Right, you said you were fishermen, the first time. Sorry if I ask dumb questions”. Antonio replied shamefully. “Don’t apologize for nothing, you are healing, it’s a step at a time”. The wife, still holding her handbag, added softly, “Oh dear. You were lucky he found you and didn’t hesitate to take you to the clinic. Another hour, and… well, I don’t know what might have happened.” Antonio’s heart sank as he realized just how close he had come to death, and yet he had no memory of how or why. He looked at the couple, grateful but also desperate for answers. “Did I say anything? Anything that might tell you who I am?” The fisherman shook his head slowly. “You were in and out of consciousness, mumbling things we couldn’t make out. You didn’t have any ID on you, nothing to say who you were.” Antonio closed his eyes briefly, trying to push back the rising tide of frustration. He opened them again, looking at the couple with a newfound resolve. “Thank you for saving my life,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I don’t know who I am or what happened to me, but I’m grateful to you both. I am very, very grateful”. He fell on his knees with a bow. The wife of the fisherman gasped, trying not to cry at Antonio’s reaction. The fisherman released his grip on the bed rail and pulled him up to his feet. “We’re just glad you’re alive,” he replied. “You rest now. We’ll be around if you need anything.” The wife smiled softly, reaching out to gently pat Antonio’s hand. “Take care of yourself. The doctor will help you get your memory back, I’m sure of it.” “Thanks ma’am”. Antonio forced a smile. “Can I give you a hug?” The woman sobbed. Antonio nodded slowly, and the woman tapped her hand around him. “This is what a hug feels like?” Antonio muttered to himself. The woman pulled away but didn’t resist giving him a forehead kiss. “May I know your names please?” “Of course. I am Gabrielle and my husband’s Lucas”. The lady replied, drying her wet under eye. “Nice to meet you two”. Antonio said, still uncomfortable with the woman’s show of affection. “We will come back to visit, okay”. Mr. Lucas assured him with a handshake. As they turned to leave, Antonio watched them go, a swirl of emotions churning inside him. The couple had given him a lifeline, but the questions still haunted him. Who was he? Why was he shot? And what kind of life had he lived before this blank slate?