A new beginning.  Might as well get some of this down.  The doctor seems to think keeping a diary is good idea, and at this point, there are no bad ones.

Here goes…

Hit by a car.  Or that’s why I was in the hospital.  Hell, I don’t even remember that.

I have the right wallet, the right ID, the right name… I suppose.  “All I need is the girl”?  I need a lot more than that.  I’m being helped by a Doctor Hoffman to regain my memory and my identity, but I’m not sure I want to be “Grant Douglas,: with the sleazy address and a matchbook from a sleazier bar.  I am accused of being Quentin Collins.  But he’d be a century old, and there’s not enough Geritol in the world to make that happen.

My name is Grant Douglas, not Quentin Collins.  But neither mean a damned thing.



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