“I thought I knew the face of my love. I dreamt of her so often that the image of her face is burned into my mind like a brand upon the skin. But that was years ago, in a different city, and now I've lost the thread. My search wanders now and it's easily distracted by warm, wet invitations from any pretty face with a pouting lip that softly whispers my name the same way she did.”

Waking up next to a strange woman is not an uncommon thing to occur in the life of a twenty-something male living in New York City. Waking up next to a strange woman who claims to have had sex with you numerous times--none of which you remember--is something else entirely. Joaquin tries to play down the seriousness of the situation at first but, when it happens again and again with different women, he begins to wonder if these missing chunks of time are something more than the end result of drunken binges. Could it be a symptom of something else? Something much worse?

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