And so began Ravela’s first month of haunting the library. She began each day with a run around the lake before breakfast. It felt liberating and gave her routine something she had sorely missed if nothing else from before her time as an interdimensional tourist fallen victim to an over-enthusiastic guide.

The fact that people weren’t out and about at that time of the day gave her a chance to run her track at full speed, always returning on time for breakfast.

Ravela spent the rest of the day in the library studying dictionaries, which she found by waltzing through all the sections with great effort and children’s books. Her weird behavior soon was discovered.

Ravela bought notebooks filling page after page with vocabulary practicing the words in writing, practicing during her morning runs, or in her room before going to sleep.

Eventually, her activities attracted some unwanted attention. The librarian was the first to notice her unending studies. And one fateful morning two men waited for her arrival outside the library.

Ravela greeted them in a strange pronunciation of their frequently used greeting. She was however terribly unprepared for the conversation that ensued afterward.

They looked at each other then back at Ravela and guided her into the back of the police car. She didn’t resist and they treated her with a rather soft touch.

All in all, they were rather friendly to the strange man who so completely failed in communicating with them. On the ride to the police station, she tried to understand what they communicated over their radio.

Ravela took the time in the car to study her escorting officers. Both were young, no older than thirty, Ravela estimated. One with short blonde hair, and stern blue eyes that focused on the road.

His skin shows the heavy tan of a man spending most of his time outside. Considering the climate of the area he may not have grown up around here, for his tan did not fit the region's expected climate.

The other officer was a man much like herself with brown skin, dark short hair, and a full beard. They glanced back at him from time to time without saying much.

Ravela considered how she should explain her situation. How to deceive these people without revealing her entire luggage for example.

The patrol car slowly drove out of town and up the mountainous road through the forest. Her forehead touched the cold glass.

Absentmindedly, Ravela watched the scenery pass by. They passed the deforested area and Ravela got a beautiful view of the lake and her usual running route.

They drove for quite a while and Ravela memorized the road just in case she later would have to walk back.

Driving through the thick forest for half an hour the police car eventually made it to open fields.

They drove down the mountainous road into a midsized town. Reaching the police station, Ravela was escorted inside. She still held on to her notebooks and thought that maybe she could convince authorities that she was just a weird case of memory loss.

The station itself was rather busy. Many citizens talk on different front desk windows. The officers brought her to a back room where Ravela took a seat at a desk.

Then she was alone in this room. She looked at the mirror across from herself certain that it was a one-way mirror.

Ravela took out her pen and opened her notebook. She parted the paged into compartments and began a rough drawing of her version of what happened to her.

Ravela ‘remembered’ walking…somewhere.

Getting hit in the head from behind.

She came to her senses on a train.

Got off at the station in the small town.

Remembered nothing.

No name, no words, had no wallet on her.

She drew the house by the lake where she rented her room.

She roughly drew the price board and her room.

And then she drew the police meeting her and taking her here.

Ravela looked at her drawing wondering if they’d convey her situation and would be accepted by the authorities, or if she would have to fight her way out of there and would need to move and change identities again before even establishing herself here.

She moved around nervously on her chair. Realized that one leg of the table and her chair were ever so slightly shorter thus making it shake just a tiny bit. Ravela tried to ignore it but it did bother her heightened senses. A lot.

Just when she was about to jump out of her seat the door opened. The two police officers enter behind them an older-looking officer. He sat opposite Ravela looking like someone ruined his morning break. Ravela rightfully assumed that someone was herself.

“Blessed day, I am ####### Sheriff Thorn, Mr. -” he looked expectantly at Ravela.

Ravela responded with a shaky, “Blessed day, Sheriff Thorn.” which prompted an exchange of looks between the officers. Ravela made a face that could only be understood as apologetic and took out her previously drawn comic panel.

Pushed it carefully toward Sheriff Thorn and said, “Sorry, I am still learning.”

Sheriff Thorn took his time to study the drawings. After a long pause, he sighed and said a few words to the other officers Ravela didn’t understand. The officers who had picked her up left the room.

Once again Sheriff Thorn looked at the drawings in front of him. He slowly pulled out a pen from his breast pocket. He wrote short words beside the separate panels and pushed the notebook back to Ravela.

Beside her panels stood simple questions:

Ravela ‘remembered’ walking…somewhere.

Getting hit in the head from behind. 1. Where?

She came to her senses on a train. Got off at the station in the small town. 2. When?

Remembered nothing. No name, no words, had no wallet on her. 3. What name for now?

The house by the lake where she rented her room.

She roughly drew the price board and her room. 4. How?

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The police meeting and took her here. 5. Know Why?

She leaned back in her chair. Considering her next answers carefully. Holding the bridge of her nose acting like she tried to remember something.

She removed the paper from the notebook and began to draw on a new page.

She wrote the numeral “1” in the upper right corner. Ravela carefully drew the train station she had visited a month before. Just the outside of the building from memory. The details were pretty good and if it was a known sight Sheriff Thorn may even recognize it. Ravela felt some pride in her drawing.

Then she answered the other question in numbered order.

She’s been here for roughly thirty days.

Finding a name was harder. She had no frame of reference for this world's naming conventions. So she picked a name from one of the children’s books she had read so far. "Call me Ramiel."

The third question she answered by reaching into her pocket. Sheriff Thorn tensed up at that but relaxed when ‘Ramiel’s’ hand came back up with the money she always carried with her to the library. Roughly 2000 bucks folded between her fingers.

Ravela put that money on the table and wrote down the number four.

Ravela denied knowing why they had picked her up with a written. ‘No, sorry. I do not know.’

Sheriff Thorn looked at the answers and shifted his position in his chair, now leaning further toward the note instead of leaning back in his chair. The investigator in the man just became interested, Ravela realized. A wry smile formed on the edges of Ravela's mouth.

Sheriff Thorn got up and took the notes with him. Ravela was once again alone. At least the good officer left her money behind, Ravela thought. The table wiggled and Ravela began moving it around. She was at her limit and there had to be some way to place this table that wouldn't drive her up the walls.

She had to get her mind off this if she wanted to convince them of her story.

Surely there is one spot that would stop this madness?!

Ravela began moving the table slowly and in time found a spot that brought the table to level. It had however visibly moved from its original spot. Whoever stood behind that one-way mirror probably considered her an asylum case.

Regretable but in this case unavoidable.

Ravela didn’t have to wait much longer for Sheriff Thorn to return.

Sheriff Thorn stalled for a second after opening the door, taking note that the table had moved. He pulled his chair up to the table and place a newspaper in front of Ravela.

On it was the train station Ramiel had drawn. The entire front page is filled with the disastrous scene of what happened inside the train station by multiple photographs.

Picking up the newspaper slowly to convey hesitation but also a measure of recognition. Ravela let her finger run over the front page.

She nodded profusely hoping to convey to Sheriff Thorn that indeed this train station rang a bell and not in a good way either.

Sheriff Thorn on the opposite side of the table reacted positively to the display of feigned, yet unfeigned, remembering.

He began to fill out some kind of form and flip through a thick telephone book.

He wrote down several numbers in a misguided attempt to find out; who went missing in that city, or whose property might not have been identified yet. Maybe they found a wallet not belonging to anyone in particular? With an identity card that was just right. No? Ramiel could see it in the officer's eyes. It would have been just so nice.

Yes, Ravela convinced the officer that he had a case on his hands. One Sheriff Thorn eagerly intended to solve.

Ravela, however, was fully aware that no amount of digging would bring to light her lost identity. How very convenient for 'Ramiel'.

What could have been a lost day or even a ruined start took a turn for the better.

Ravela only had to sit and wait for the good officer to get frustrated with his efforts and in the end, she would be rewarded. Maybe it was only a temporary identity card, or perhaps a doctor or judge giving their expert opinion and opening up a legal route for her to enter, or from Sheriff Thorn’s side of things, reenter society.

She felt great about her odds, Lady Luck truly lit her way. She leaned back in her much more comfortable chair, relieved, glad even. Someone finally was on her case and willing to help. Oh, how grateful she was.

Ravela didn't even have to show her things. No, the good sheriff did all of the work by himself. Just merrily digging into this fun little mystery.

Yes, sure she had to sit all day and listen to an ever more frustrated Sheriff Thorn vent his frustration, that nobody had reported the poor man, he was trying to help, missing. Nobody had found her wallet containing an identity card that fit 'Ramiel's' description and thus, no other name for poor old 'Ramiel' could be found.

The hours passed and nothing new came and every call went the same. They were no longer in an interrogation room with a wonky chair and table. No, he was now sitting comfortably in Sheriff Thorn’s office.

Trying to play the ever-apologetic victim of this terrible incident. Eventually, Sheriff Thorn gave up. The man finally ran out of steam, or perhaps numbers to call, and through lots of cursing and mumbling convinced himself to go a different route.

His next phone call seemed much more relaxed and controlled. No more nervous behavior. No more anticipated disappointments.

In his new approach, he found new confidence to get a solution.

After he hung up Sheriff Thorn got out of his chair for the first time in what must have been three hours.

He took all his notes from the table and picked up Ravela's notebook as well and placed them under his arm and put his hand on Ramiel's shoulder.

It was just a short tap of reassurance after Sheriff Thorn beckoned Ravela to follow her outside.

They walked out of the sheriff's office and then out of the station altogether. Sheriff Thorn led her to a police Cruiser unlocked it and got in the driver's seat. Sheriff Thorn opened the side door for Ravela.

What a nice change of pace, Ravela thought. The right this time around was very short they stopped in front of her unassuming plain building.

They got out of the car, and Ravela followed the sheriff inside. They walked into a small lobby which altogether seemed very clean. The woman behind the front desk called out to Sheriff Thorn.

While exchanging pleasantries Sheriff Thorn from time to time pointed toward Ramiel. After about five minutes of small talk, a man in a white apron came out from a door behind the front desk shook hands with Sheriff Thorn, and motioned for them to step into his office.

Inside waiting for him was a very normal-looking doctor's office all of them sat down together at the doctor's desk.

Sheriff Thorn and the good doctor exchanged a few words and discussed Ravela's condition and situation.

After that short discussion, the doctor looked over at Ravela.

“I am Doctor Maven.”, Doctor Maven introduced himself.

He took a few of his instruments walked around the desk and put them right next to Ravela.

First, was a tiny flashlight Doctor Maven used to check her eyes, Ravela was not certain about the purpose of the exercise. She was however confident that she would pass.

Then the doctor held a finger in front of Ravela's eyes and said the simple word “Follow.” to which Ravela complied. First both eyes, then the right eye covered, and afterward the left eye.

Next, the doctor took out some cards with different colors and shapes on them.

Thankfully Ravela knew the colors and shapes from the children's books. It was shamefully little, but it was better than knowing nothing at all. Doctor Maven talked to Sheriff Thorn and sometimes examined her. Trying to extract more answers from Ravela with varying degrees of success.

It was a nice touch of the doctor that he used her new name when addressing his patient.

Eventually, however, this inspection had run its course. Doctor Maven filled out some forms and documents and handed them over to Sheriff Thorn. After shaking hands with Sheriff Thorn, Doctor Mave offered his hand to Ravela as well.

Ravela of course shook it with an apologetic smile. After which they left his office with a few more pleasantries between the doctor and Sheriff Thorn.

They got back in the car and drove to a more official-looking building. One made of sturdy stone.

Getting to speak at the front desk took considerably longer. The lady manning the desk made plenty of calls over the phone, her voice sounding always very apologetic to Ravela.

After half an hour they were told to move on, or at least that's what Ravela understood. Sheriff Thorn once again led her to another room. This time nobody came out to meet them. Instead, they waited for a light to turn green just above the door.

They sat in their chairs patiently until their time came.

They entered a chamber that had plenty of rows of wooden benches. All benches face a rather imposing-looking wooden podium. An ancient-looking old man sat atop it alone. In front of it sat a middle-aged woman with a typewriter.

What followed was about half an hour of questions that were kept very simple. Still, she struggled to answer. Sheriff Thorn gave all his documents to the judge including Ravela’s notebook.

Playing along with this got increasingly harder. Ending up in a psych ward was not at all in the cards for her. This better turn out good or she would have to punch her way back to her stuff and dip out again, Ravela thought.

The judge took his time looking at Sheriff Thorn exchanging a great many words with him. He then got a contemplative expression and his eyes wandered to the ceiling.

After about a minute the judge nodded to himself and said something that made Sheriff Thorn smile. Ravela was rooting for her luck right now.

“Ramiel.” the judge addressed her directly.

Ravela nodded and replied as best she could. “Yes, I am Ramiel.”

The judge then shook his head. Sheriff Thorn brought a piece of paper to her.

In one of the boxes Ramiel was written in black ink. The other was empty.

'I need to chose a family name right now?!'

Ravela was put on the spot. Internally flailing her arms. ‘Why now? Why me? Can’t we do that later?! Please!’

Ravela’s brain of course was one track and only spat out last names with R.

She gave up and picked one of them. “Ramiel Roice,” Ravela let the name roll over her tongue. She physically cringed. She should be barred from naming people. Herself included.

“Mr. Roice, it is.” the judge put down his hammer.

Like that Ramiel Roice became at least temporarily an identity she could use.

The rest of the late afternoon Sheriff Thorn chased her from one clerk to the next till they had collected all the documents needed. Some of which she had to pay. To her, those were insignificant costs.

Sheriff Thorn drove her back to the station and got two of his junior colleagues to drive her back to the small town where she got picked up. On the ride home Ravela thought about her new life as Ramiel Roice.

Ravela had used an immodest amount of luck today. Now she worried about the inevitable rebalancing of the scales. She shook her head in the back of the police car. Worry can wait for a different day, life right now was good.

She smiled as they passed the clearing by the lake once again. Ravela just landed herself a new start.