Everything gone

You wake with a start, sprawled against cold pavement. The air is damp and heavy, thick with the smell of wet asphalt and distant exhaust. Your head throbs in slow, insistent waves, and for a moment you can't tell if your eyes are open or closed.

You push yourself upright, back scraping against brick. A narrow alley walls you in on three sides—dumpsters, cracked pavement, a dead end behind you. The only way out lies ahead, where the alley opens onto a street alive with distant traffic and voices. You search your memory for a name, a face, anything—but there's nothing. No name. No reason you're here. Just the pounding in your skull and a strange, hollow silence where your past should be.

Your hands move on instinct, patting down your pockets. No wallet. No cards, no ID, nothing to tell you who you are. Just lint, and a folded receipt too faded to read.

Then your fingers close around something in your jacket pocket. A phone, screen cracked in a spiderweb pattern across one corner. You pull it out, and before you can think to try, the screen flickers to life on its own—unlocked by your face. A picture on the homescreen, behind the icons... Whoever you are, this phone knows you, even if you don't.

You glance toward the mouth of the alley, where the street waits, indifferent and unfamiliar. Staying here won't answer anything.

[Progress: Clues found: none — 0/6 | Truths revealed: none — 0/3]