Dedicated to someone who was the first one to make me see that you could write about illness and not be insensitive or glorify it. Thank you.

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"What is your earliest memory after the incident?"

A young man in his 30s clicked off a light, as he looked directly at Olivia's face.

This wasn't the first time she'd been into his office.

Trouble is she couldn't remember any of the other times.

"Well, in the hospital...I remember waking up there for a bit. Then, yesterday waking up in Steven's house and him telling me that it's been over a month, and that I have a TBI..."

"But you remember everything from before the accident just fine?", he asked, reading over his notes from the prior office visits.

"Yes. Nothing during the accident though-it's all fuzzy," she explained.

"I see," he stated, checking his clipboard yet again against what she had just relayed.

Looking at her cousin, he said, "It looks like what you suspect is right. She can only remember up to two days at a time right now."

Swallowing nervously, she tugged on the doctor's stark white lab coat sleeve and queried, "When...can I return to normalcy again?"

The two men glanced at each other quickly, before her cousin, Steven, faced Olivia.

"You've seen the people at the VA, right?", he asked, holding her hand as he did so.

"Yeah-the pictures you show from when you started helping out," she replied. Tipping her head to the side, she asked, "When did you start volunteering with the veterans again?"

"Your brother persuaded me to-before he deployed, that is. He visited you in the hospital a few times, remember?", Steven responded back.

"No, I don't, but I saw the photos. I wish I had seen him off at the airport though," she confessed.

"You were still recovering-it wouldn't have been right," Steven chided.

Dr. Jackson smirked, noting the tight bond both the caretaker and his patient shared.

They were going to need it for the rough days ahead of them.

"Olivia," he started, "You've seen some of the other patients here, and the physical therapy they have to go through..."

"You specialize in strokes, right?", she inquired, getting a glare from Steven to knock it off and let him speak.

"I specialize in TBIs and concussions. Normally, I see athletes or people in car accidents, but all sorts of people get amnesia," he explained.

"Oh, I see."

"However, Olivia...I've seen that their prognosis depends on how willing they are to work on their condition. The brain is a mysterious thing, it's cells can heal themselves, and the brain...it's so much more than complex than computational machines," he relayed.

"What does that mean for me?", she muttered.

"It's means as long as you don't have Alzheimer's," he jested. "You have a fighting chance."

"That's your answer," she quipped. Sighing, she remarked, "Well, at least I'm alive, right?"

Elsewhere, a young African American woman made her way out a taxi, calling the number of her old friend who she heard lived in Ohio now and getting peeved when she did not answer back.

"Where is this girl?" Clicking her tongue, she made her way to the dorms, and moved in within an hour's time frame. Previously, she had been in a double-room dorm, but trouble with her delinquent drinking roommate had made her request for a switch within the first few weeks of the semester. Now having been granted a single, she checked in and brought her stuff to the tiny dorm room.

As she did not have that much luggage, she quickly unpacked and made her way to a tiny café across the street where a young Korean doctoral student sat and studied at regularly.

Dan Geum preferred to study and work at a place with a small amount of background noise, so the café with its regular bustle made for an optimal place for the introvert to hunker down in.

Not even glancing up, he ordered a coffee via mobile order, and waited for it to arrive at his table while Kasey placed herself in line.

She wanted to make sure they got her lunch order right-last time she had ordered mobile, they had placed the wrong salad dressing, and gotten part of her order mixed up with someone else. Well that was not happening this time if she could help it.

Satisfied with the cashier, she placed in her rewards number only for a gaggle of college girls to start gawking at a man who had just come in for a pickup order.

"AHHH! Isn't that a hottie? Let's try to get his number," said the brunette girl.

"Don't you know who that is? He won't look at you even if your hair's on fire!", chided the blonde girl of the group.

"Watch me," the brunette one said, sauntering over to the 'hot' man...and being completely ignored as Jon passed by to get his sandwich order.

"What's wrong with him?", she whined, grabbing her coffee and leaving in a huff.

At this, Kasey chuckled, having seen the whole altercation from the counter. Wondering what they could be thinking, she observed the 'campus bad boy' for a bit until her order was up.

Dan hastily moved tables. It didn't matter if the view from the window was the best to stay out of people's way, he was pretty sure Jon, who had come in for his sandwich order, had spotted him, and he did not want to meet up with him anytime soon.

The past few weeks, their relationship had moved from indifferent to trepidation, as Dan kept staying out of his dorm room until late at night so as to avoid the fellow GTA.

Basically, they had met at a doctoral research expo, where they both had booths explaining their research; however, Dan had made the grave mistake of saying, "What does history need to research?" over a live microphone accidentally.

Not only had the entire research expo heard that, but he was sure that his roommate several booths away, and the rest of the History Department, had it out for the Statistics doctoral student.

Why was he always putting his foot in his mouth?

He would have been fine if the lecture from his mentor had been the only consequence, but Jon had taken a habit of studying/working from the dorm room all of a sudden.

It was only a matter of time before he got jumped!

Looking at someone like him with tattoos over his body, would he have a chance against that beating?

NO!

So...he did his best to hide away and pray they all forgot eventually.

I mean they had to forget someday.

Right?

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Author's note: In this story, stereotypes, people's misconceptions and discrimination will be explored. Before we get to the next chapter, I have to put a disclaimer.

Jon is not a thug, he is studying/working in his dorm room now due to convenience. It is only Dan's misconceptions, prejudice and warped internal train of thought that lead him to deduce Jon (as a Hispanic/Latino with visible tattoos) is a gangster which he is not, or that he wants to beat him up for what he said. (He actually could care less about Dan's statements, but that's another matter.)

So before any of y'all get at me for stereotyping Latinos/Hispanics (which I am a part of, I might add), know that these characters are imperfect people. That is all.

Additional Author's note: I have had bad roommates, and had to make requests to move out in the past. I have also had roommates that made me feel uncomfortable staying in the room. I am not discounting bad roommate experiences, or trying to make light of them, just trying to show how the characters respond to it. (And yes-in Dan's case, he's the one that is acting difficult to his other roommate due to lack of communication and misunderstandings.)

Extra Author's note: I based the comments the girls made towards Jon out of real comments I've heard from college girls. Objectifying men to only their appearance is just as bad as objectifying women, y'all. So don't do it please. I find it disgusting personally.