Myrae woke to the cheery sound of birds chirping. Sweat dripped down her face. The tiny fan on the floor blew a trivial amount of air on her, considering that it was the middle of summer in Florida. Though she was exhausted, her growling stomach insisted she get up and eat breakfast.

She quickly changed out of her pajamas, trading her gray, long sleeved pajamas for a pair of baggy jeans and a blue striped t-shirt. Then, she headed to the kitchen.

The rickety stairs creaked loudly in the silence, as she made her way to the kitchen. She climbed onto the kitchen counter and got a bowl, then looked in the pantry for cereal. All she found were bran flakes—the only cereal she'd ever eaten. Why can't I ever eat something different?

She poured a generous helping into her bowl and added milk. She started shoveling the food into her mouth, ignoring the monotonous taste.

A loud knock on the front door resounded in the other room. She cocked her head, more curious than scared. She rose from her seat to see two men in uniforms standing in the front entryway of the house. A screen, attached to the upper right corner of the mens' shirts, lit up with the word 'Police.' Police? The term sounded familiar to Myrae, but she couldn't seem to place it.

"Hello," Myrae said. "Can I help you with anything? I only have raisin bran cereal to eat if you are hungry. Though I don't know why I bought it, since I really don't like it."

The two men exchanged a glance.

"What's your name?" one of the men asked, while the other continued into the house.

"Myrae Clemans," Myrae told him.

The man nodded to the other.

"This is their kid," he said.

"What do you mean?" Myrae asked.

"Myrae, there's something I need to tell you about your parents," the man began to say.

Confusion overwhelmed her. "Parents?"

The man seemed taken aback. "Do you not have parents?"

Myrae's brow furrowed. She thought that she should have parents, but she had no recollection of ever having parents. Why can't I remember having parents? Is it possible that I never had any in the first place? No, that can't be right. I've got to have parents! But...why can't I remember them? What's wrong with me?!

"I...I guess not," Myrae informed him.

"You mean that Don and Zey adopted you?"

Myrae's pulse started to coarse a bit faster through her veins. Who are they? Why can't I remember anything?

"I-I don't know who they are," she stammered.

The man's eyebrow raised incredulously. "You mean to tell me that you live alone in this house?"

Myrae didn't know, she couldn't remember. Have I been living in this house by myself all these years? Is that possible? No, it can't be. I couldn't have. I have to have someone here to take care of me. But...why can't I remember?

"I-I don't know. I don't know anything," Myrae said, tears filling her eyes. "I can't remember anything."

The man was at a loss for words.

"Scott," he called. The other man entered the room. Myrae glanced between the two of them.

"This little girl seems to be living alone in this house," the first officer said.

"Really?" Scott said. He held up the pile of envelopes in his hand. "This seems to be their main residence."

The first officer frowned, crouching down to eyes level with Myrae. "Have you ever heard the names Don and Zey Clemans before?"

"I know the name Clemans!" Myrae exclaimed. Maybe I can remember! For a moment, hope fluttered in little Mryae's heart. If I can just...no. No, it's useless. I can't remember. "But I don't know who Don and Zey are."

The officer shook his head. "I don't know what to make of this."

"Perhaps she doesn't know her parent's first names," Scott suggested.

The first man sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring off into empty space. Finally, he said:

"Myrae Clemans, I am Officer Pherson. Last night, two people named Don and Zey Clemans were arrested while pulling a robbery on the Nuimuar Uranium Bank. Now, I don't understand your connection to them, but this is clearly their residence, and according to the records, you are their daughter."

Curiosity wormed its way into Myrae's brain. "Who are you?"

The men exchanged a glance. They were even more confused than Myrae, staring at her like she was from another planet.

"We're police officers," Scott replied in disbelief.

"Oh," Myrae said. She could feel her cheeks starting to burn. Here was yet another thing she had forgotten.

Sensing Myrae's despair, Officer Pherson quickly said, "Why don't you wait in the car? We have been issued a search warrant, so we need some time to look through your, er, Don and Zey's things."

Myrae nodded slightly, though she was still in shock from the whole event. Numbly, she followed Officer Pherson out of her house, to a white car with a blue and red box on top. It kind of looked like a funny sort of hat. Myrae sat in the car, wondering what was going on. The questions came like a flood. What is a police officer? What are they looking for in my house? Who are Don and Zey? Why can't I remember my parents?

Her stomach growled loudly, furious that it's feeding had been interrupted. Myrae settled back in the seat, hoping that wherever they took her, there would be food.

***

It took twenty minutes for the car to reach its destination―a small, white-brick building. On the side of the building, Myrae read the words "Police Station." Silently, she wondered what that meant. But she still hadn't built up the courage to ask what it was. They already thought she was crazy since she couldn't remember her parents.

The thought of it saddened Myrae. She'd read books in school of children with loving parents. She wished desperately that she could have a mother and father who cared about her as much as the characters in the story cared for each other. She glanced at the officer curiously. Does he have parents? Or is he a parent right now?

Myrae didn't get the chance to ask. The car jolted to a halt in the parking lot. The man who called himself Officer Pherson hopped out of the front seat and opened the door for her.

"Go with Officer Scott into the station," he instructed. Myrae nodded and followed the second officer into the building.

There wasn't anything special about the interior. A few people dressed in the same clothes as Officers Pherson and Scott, were inside. One man was at a spacious desk on the right side of the room, cluttered with papers and files. Others chatted, drinking out of styrofoam cups, or walked in and out of a corridor stretching along the North side of the building. A few chairs were on the south side of the room, closest to the entrance.

"Why don't you sit down over there for a moment?" Officer Scott suggested, pointing to the sitting area. Myrae nodded and sat down.

The chairs were significantly bigger than Myrae was. Her feet didn't even come close to reaching the floor. She looked down at the chair, abstractly drawing circles with her finger on the blue-and-red dotted fabric.

A few minutes passed before Officer Scott returned with a plump woman in uniform. She had long, gray hair tied back in a braid and kind, brown eyes. Myrae liked her instantly.

"Hello, Myrae," she greeted warmly. "My name is Officer Luop, and I'm going to look after you this afternoon."

"Okay," Myrae said. She took the elderly woman's hand and walked with her down the North corridor.

After walking a few paces to the right, the duo reached a large dining hall. Myrae eyed the row of tables filled with muffins, breakfast sandwiches, and other goodies.

"May I have something to eat?" Myrae asked the officer.

"Of course!" Officer Luop said. "Eat anything you want."

Myrae headed straight for the end of the table and picked up a paper plate. The officer followed suit, picking a plate of her own. Myrae reached for two muffins and a yogurt. She was about to sit down when a shiny pastry caught her eye. She turned to see a box full of round pastries that had a hole in the center. Each was decorated in an enticing way, some shiny with chocolate, others covered in white frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

"What are those?" Myrae inquired.

"Donuts, deary," Officer Luop told her. She lifted a chocolate donut from the box and added it to her array of breakfast foods. "Would you like one?"

"Yes, please," Myrae said eagerly.

"Which one would you like?"

"The one with rainbow sprinkles!"

Officer Luop placed a brightly colored donut on young Myrae's plate.

"Thank you," Myrae said.

"You're welcome, deary!"

Officer Luop walked to the end of the table where three containers were set up. Two were metal, the last was plastic, containing an orange liquid. Myrae assumed it was orange juice.

"Would you like some tea, deary?" Officer Luop asked.

Myrae wrinkled her nose. "No, tea is gross."

The officer laughed. "Really? What makes you say that?"

"It tastes like bitter, expired herbs," Myrae described. "It makes me feel nauseous and sleepy. It also burns my mouth whenever I drink it. But I'd rather let it burn my mouth, since it helps to mask some of the flavor."

The Officer's grin faded. "Interesting," she said. "Well, have some orange juice then."

Myrae picked up a styrofoam cup and filled it with juice. Then, the two sat down at a table together. Myrae bit into the donut. It was like a fluffy pillow of sugar, broken up with crunchy sprinkles. It was good, but as she tasted the sweet flavor, chewed on the dough, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd had it before. It tasted familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Mind if we join you both?"

Myrae turned around to see Officer Pherson and Officer Scott. Each held a cup of dark, brown liquid.

"Of course not,'' Officer Luop replied.

Officer Pherson sat down in front of Myrae and Officer Scott sat down on her right.

"A little bit later today, we're going to have you go back to the house to pack up your things, Myrae," Officer Pherson stated.

"Okay," Myrae said.

"So Myrae, do you go to school?" Officer Scott asked. Myrae nodded her head.

"I'm in first grade," Myrae told him.

"Do you enjoy school?" Officer Scott asked.

Myrae paused. "Not really. I keep forgetting to do my homework."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I never remember that I have homework, so I can't do it."

The three Officers glanced at each other, perplexed.

"Do you like your classmates?" Officer Luop asked gently.

"No," Myrae stated. "They laugh at me when I can't remember things."

"Don't you have friends?" Officer Pherson asked.

Myrae shook her head. "I can't remember anyone long enough to be friends with them."

The officers frowned. They didn't know what to make of such a situation. What on earth could have happened to cause her loss of memory?

The four sat in silence for a while. Myrae and Officer Luop ate, while Officer Pherson and Officer Scott drank their coffee. Finally, Myrae set the muffin she was eating down on her plate and looked Officer Pherson in the eye.

"Is there something wrong with me?"

The officer was quite stunned by her sudden, direct question.

"Um...I-I don't know," he stammered. He glanced at the other officers for help.

"Can I see a doctor?" Myrae asked.

"You know what a doctor is?" Officer Luop questioned.

"Of course," Myrae responded. "We learned about different 'occupations' in school."

Slowly, Officer Pherson nodded his head. "Yes, we'll set up an appointment with a physician after we retrieve your things." Glancing at the others, he added, "It may provide us with some answers."