Fiona's first outing.

After filling a page with some choice words for William, you return to poking around the apartment but the novelty wears off quickly. Everything is boring guy stuff. Nothing scandalous or exciting anywhere. Not even a condom to excite the imagination that this guy was ever getting laid. No, the whole apartment is very dull and you eventually lose interest in William's personal effects in your space and decide to venture out into the world.

You're still unsure what the nature of William's involvement with you is, and even whether or not you like him. But loathe as you are to admit it, William did help you out a lot by preparing documents and providing you with cash and a dress. Although, as you stated in your letter, some shoes, a purse, and a hair tie would have been nice. Still, whatever is going on is better than... whatever you were doing before this. If William's letter is to be fully believed, this is the very beginning of your existence. Your mind cannot process that and so you refuse to accept it as true. No, it's definitely just amnesia.

Your search of the apartment turned up a few things that will have to make do for your first trip out. Some adjustable men's sandals that you've sized down enough to function well enough. They're ugly as sin, but you're not about to wander the city barefoot. Next, you found a set of keys. One is labeled "Front door" and you tested it to ensure that it does work to lock and unlock your apartment. Very good. The other keys are labeled "mailbox," "safe," and "storage 143." You know it's not the time-lock safe in your closet, so you make a mental note to keep an eye out for another safe somewhere.

You found an old ball cap that would help to tame your hair but there's no way you're wearing that sweaty old thing. You'll just take your chances with leaving it loose, even if it does seem to want to get everywhere all the time. Why did you ever let it grow so long? It's nearly to your waist. Of course, every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you decide the look suits you. Besides, you hardly think it's best to make any rash decisions when you're still suffering amnesia. The hair stays for now.

The last item of interest is small leather carrying case that you think must have once held a camera of some sort. It features a strap you can wear over your shoulder and it zips closed. That's good enough for now. After remembering to retrieve the smartwatch William left for you, you tuck your cash and documents into the bag and pull open the front door, keys in hand. "Fiona's going on an adventure."

The hallway is, for lack of a better term, gross. It's dimly lit and the carpet is probably thirty years old and never been washed. Even the air is stuffy and carries too many old smells to sort them out. What kind of place is this? Why would you or William choose to live here? Do you not have other options? Are you in some kind of trouble??

The number on your door is 6A. Thankfully, that rings a bell in your memory and you're able to recall your entire address. Still, knowing that it's better to be safe than sorry when dealing with amnesia you don't really understand, you jot it down on a scrap of paper next to the words "my apartment."

Not wanting to spend any more time than you have to in this dirty hallway, you hurry out of there as fast as your ill-fitting shoes will carry you. Outside, a gentle breeze offsets a warm day just right and you take a deep breath of fresh air. "Wow, what a great day. Okay, things are looking up."

Not far away down the street, you spot a group of young men loitering and laughing about something. From the looks of them, they're in some sort of gang. At least, that's how you imagine it. One of them notices you and nudges his friend to look. Both of them grin at you. Perhaps it's best if you avoid that particular sort of attention.

Scanning your environment, you recall a surprising amount of detail about the area like you've lived here for ages. Nothing about any gang, though, so maybe you're just being prejudiced.