“Mr. Miller? Can you tell me what day it is?”

The light was blinding. I assumed it was a nurse asking me the ridiculous question, but it didn’t explain why I was in a hospital at all. The last thing that I remembered I had passed out after the party. THE PARTY! I HAD WON THE LOTTERY!

“Whoa, Mr. Miller. You can’t get up yet. You need to stay in your bed. You’ve experienced an extremely traumatic event.”

As the nurse and a mysterious orderly pinned me down. The spotlight kept me from making out faces or name tags, but it was clear I was in a hospital. The restraints were tightened around me, as my confusion level spiked. I was drinking at the party, sure. Who won’t after they won that kind of money? But it wasn’t enough to put me in here.

“What? Traumatic event? I just won the lottery! I’m a millionaire! That’s not trauma.”

“No, Mr. Miller,” the nurse interrupted. “You didn’t just win the lottery.”

“Of course I did.” My face became flush, and temperature rose. The heart monitored beeping picked up. “Get me out of these restraints. I don’t need to be in here! I’m not sick!”

The nurse shifted her head, now a silhouette against the light. She was sad.

“What? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Mr. Miller, you didn’t just win the lottery…you won the lottery 16 years ago.”

 

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