I came to in a quiet corner, the sounds of distant sirens and shouts jarring my senses.
The streets were filled with mayhem, with people running, fighting, and looting. I was in the middle of a riot, and I had no idea how I got there.
As I looked around, my mind slowly pieced together my surroundings. I was close to my apartment, and I made my way home, my legs feeling heavy and my head spinning.
When I entered, I was surprised to find it clean and organized. My clothes were neatly folded, my books arranged on the shelves, and the piles of paper on my desk were gone.
I had never felt my apartment was so big. I turned on the news on TV, the anchor's frantic voice describing the chaos spreading across the city.
As I took off my jacket, I felt a piece of paper in my pocket. I pulled it out, and what I saw in my hand, coupled with the news, made me realize that I had no recollection of the past four days.
My heart pounded in my chest as I read the letter. It was written in a clean, elegant hand, and the words sent a shiver down my spine.
"Dear Mr. Kristoffer," it read. "If you are reading this letter, that means you are back in control of your body. My name is Steve Trevor, and I was a pilot, a Captain of the American Armed forces during the World war I. I am the person who was occupying your body—not by my will, of course—for the last four days. And do not worry, it won't happen again. The letter you are holding is something I wanted to give the woman I love, and I hope you can post it on my behalf. I have already written the address on the envelope. P.S. I organized your room, and your clothes collection is awesome, by the way."
The letter fell from my hand, and I stared at it, my mind reeling.
Was this for real? Was I possessed by a ghost?
It was a disturbing thought, but then, my lack of memory would make sense, and so would my apartment being organized.
I have never heard of such a polite ghost, but I would have sent the letter just for him agreeing with my wardrobe and organizing my room. It was a bizarre, surreal situation, but the sincerity in the letter was undeniable.
I decided to send the letter soon. I didn't want to test a ghost on his claim of whether he could come back and possess me again.
A part of me was scared, but another part was filled with a strange sense of honor.
I had a mission now, a final task from a man who had lived a life of bravery and sacrifice. I picked up the letter and looked at the address. I would make sure it got to her. It was the least I could do.