On the table in front of me, there are three glasses. Two of them are half empty. Of these, one is a martini glass. It contains the remainder of a drink that was once red, but is now a pale, watery pink. The bartender, that heathen, he left some ice in the glass. Oh well. This is a hotel bar, after all.

Sitting behind that glass is a woman. She is wearing a red dress that leaves little to the imagination. In a way, it’s sort of stereotypical. It’s exactly like I’d imagine it.

The other half empty glass is short and wide, and contains melting ice in an amber swirl. The water and whisky are separated. Despite appearances, this glass has not been touched in quite a while. Behind this glass is me, and I am rather unremarkable.

The third glass is empty. It is a rocks glass like the last one, but I do not remember drinking it. There are only two chairs. The woman smiles. I glance up and acknowledge her, slightly more confused than I ought to be. She is very pretty, in an exaggerated way. All curves.

“Are you all right?” The question catches me off guard. It’s not a tough question, and I suppose the only answer is:

“Yes?”

Her smile does not grow wider, but deepens somehow. “Good. I thought I’d lost you. Now, when we left off, we were discussing your job.”

“We were?”

“Oh yes. You were telling me sordid tales of depression and woe, all about your constant struggle with feelings of inadequacy.”

“Wow.”

“You were quite detailed. Do you remember?”

“No.”

“I see. Well.” She shifted in her seat, uncrossed, and then re-crossed her legs the opposite way. “We’ll adjust.” Her eyes slid to the side, and glanced towards the floor.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Her eyes shot up to my face. She watched me for a moment, and then said, “No. I just…” She trailed off, and her gaze drifted again. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes.” I said confidently. “In the hotel bar.”

“Which hotel?”

“Well,” I began, “The Roy… er. The Gre… hmm. I… knew a moment ago.”

“No. You didn’t,” she said.

I was confused. I was so sure that just a moment ago I knew, but now, it seemed like everything beyond what I could see was a blur. It seemed just like…

“A dream,” she said, and my eyes darted up. I had drifted off again.

“Well, sort of.” Her brow furrowed. “For you this must all be rather dreamlike…The name of the hotel, by the way, is the Grand Charleston.” I nodded, in recollection.

“It’s where we met,” she sighed.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I wondered why I didn’t go over to comfort her, why I completely lacked the urge.

“You’re not in a bar. You’re in a hospital.” I looked around. The walls had begun to blur. The labels of the liquor bottles were unreadable, and the bartender’s features began to blend together like a melting candle.

“But… I don’t understand.”

“Listen, I don’t have much time. You were in an accident.”

“Was it bad?”

“Very. That was six months ago. Your body is almost healed, but your mind, well...” she hesitated.

“‘Fractured’ was the word they used. That’s why I’m here.” The walls around us began to crack and shift. All the bottles behind the bar were uniform and featureless. She looked around. “It’s never been like this before. This treatment, it’s new. It’s kind of like a game. I’m playing it, because I know the way. Your brain is running it.

My goal is to talk you through it. To bring all the fractured pieces back together. I’m almost at the end, I think. We were talking about your job. It’s pretty recent.”

I took it all in, leaning back in my chair as the walls began to chip away, showing bright white behind. “When this started,” I said, “you said that I was talking about being depressed. Do I…am I happy? In general?”

“I—,” she paused. “In some ways. ‘We’ are happy, but life has been bringing you, hell, us down. You used to complain about your job often.”

I thought about this. “But, I love you?”

She smiled. “Yes. At least, you’ve mentioned as much. However,” She looked down at herself, “your memory, in this regard, is a bit skewed.” I closed my eyes, and tried to remember. When I opened them, she had changed slightly. The curves were reduced, more natural, and age more clearly defined her features. She was, however, still beautiful to me. She smiled, wide enough to divert some of the tears. “That’s a little better.” She laughed. “You know,” I said, “ maybe I don’t need to remember my job.”

“But, what will you do when you get out of here?”

I shrugged. “I’ll find something new.” I looked over at the featureless puddle that used to be a bartender. “Maybe I’ll see if this place is hiring.” She laughed again, and this time, it seemed honest. I stood up, and reached my hand out to her. “Lets get out of here,” I said. She hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

I looked around at the melting remains of my fractured mind, and watched as the colors outside began to run together in a pale swirl. “Yeah.” We walked towards the door, or at least, what was left of it. “I think it’s time to face the real thing.”