Rain touched her face before memory did.
When she opened her eyes, the sky above her was a pale London grey. The air smelled like wet pavement and distant coffee.
She was lying on a park bench.
Cold. Alone.
Her heart began to race.
Where am I?
Red double-decker buses rolled past beyond the trees. A black taxi splashed through a puddle.
London.
She knew the city — but not why she was here.
She sat up quickly. Her head throbbed.
Her coat was damp. Her hands trembled.
She searched her mind for something. Anything.
A name surfaced through the fog.
"Lena."
That was hers.
She was certain.
Everything else was gone.
No phone.
No handbag.
No wallet.
Just fifty pence resting beside her on the bench.
She stared at the small silver coin.
"Is this all I have left?" she whispered.
Footsteps slowed near her.
She looked up.
A tall man stood a few feet away, holding a takeaway coffee. Dark coat. Serious eyes. Watching her carefully.
Not curious.
Concerned.
And almost… familiar.