It was a Friday night and I was working on a paper for my Managerial Economics class when the phone rang. It was my sister Mary Beth.“Hey little bro...her,”“Hi big sis. Watcha want?”“Have you and Pauline broken up?”“No and why would you ask me a question like that?”“She’s in here with some guy and they are holding hands and being all lovey dovey.”“I guess we have broken up and she just hasn’t got around to telling me. See you in ten” I said and then hung up.It took ten minutes to get to the. I'd just blurted it out. In a fit ofgenius it meant I'd given a name that was easily traceable and failed tomatch my ID. My ID said I was Emily Doe. No,really. Social Services arevery unoriginal at giving surnames to wandering amnesiacs."If you have another name you'd rather use, all you have to do is tellme. I promise I won't remember or repeat it. The good sisters think,they aren't certain, mind you, but they think you may need more helpthan simple medical treatment can provide. Sister Maria. More

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