You, Jack, awaken

It's daytime. Maybe noon. The sky is overcast but the temperature is manageable. You feel confused and more exhausted than you've ever felt in your life. You wonder how you managed to sleep. You wonder if you slept. You look around the alley. Police tape surrounds you and the alleyway. You look down and see blood. Remembering what happened, you pat yourself down, looking for an injury. You're fine. Just confused.

You look around for the assailant but she's nowhere to be found. There are no cops either. The only sound was the busy street at the end of the alleyway and the violent flapping of the police tape in the strong wind.

Disoriented and confused, you make your way to the street. Without thinking, you reach down to lift the crime scene tape over your head, but stop when you miss the tape somehow. Putting it down to bad coordination, you try again and miss again. Frustrated, you watch your hand carefully and try again. No luck.

You squint down at it and crouch until it's at eye level. You try again and, to your astonishment, your hand goes straight through it. You try your other hand and the same happens. Still afflicted by disorientation, you focus all of your energy into your hand and pull at the tape, this time able to grab it and lift it over your head. You step past it and look back, wondering if you have been **** by the stranger from last night and whether you should be going to hospital. For now you turn back toward the street and start your journey home.

You still feel dazed as you step, almost like you're floating down the alleyway, your steps barely making a sound on the cracked and puddled asphalt. The smell of trash was barely there. You rub your head. Nothing feels right.

You make it to the noisy street and turn in the direction of your home. As you do, a big group of rushing business people come into view, presumably on their lunch break and heading back to their office. Their suits and haircuts look expensive and well-fitted and they walk with a pace that befits their opinion of their importance. They don't acknowledge you, let alone deviate from their path. They are going to collide with you.

Still not thinking clearly, you don't have any capacity or time to react. You tilt your head away and put your arm over your face to protect yourself.

You hear their inconsiderate voices get louder and louder and expect them to bump into you but they don't. They must have skimmed right by you on both sides; you feel a cold gust as they pass. You open your eyes and yell back at them, angry at their disregard for you in the street, "Hey!"

They turn to look for the source of the noise but they don't look at you. A couple of them look around, confused. They look like they're scanning around to find whoever yelled, but like it hasn't occurred to them it could be you.

"Hey?" You call again. You want them to know it's you that is angry. You want them to acknowledge you.

They look at each other, confused, and walk off as if you weren't even there.