TravelsInTheScriptorium

Anoldmansitsinaroom,withasingledoorandwindow,abed,adeskandachair.Eachdayheawakeswithnomemory,unsureofwhetherornotheislockedintotheroom.Attachedtothefewobjectsaroundhimareone-word,hand-written,labelsandonthedeskisaseriesofvaguelyfamiliarblack-and-whitephotgraphsandfourpilesofpaper.Thenamiddle-agedwomancalledAnnaentersandtalksofpillsandtreatment,butalsoofloveandpromises.Whoishe?Whatishedoinghere?Whendidhearriveandhowlongwillheremain?Withanyluck,timewilltellusall.