James stood, staring in disbelief. “Excuse me,” he asked “but are you real?” he found himself puzzled by his own words.

The girl giggled and responded “Yes. At least I hope I am. By the way, you have a lovely house, Mr…”

“Thorn” James finished for her. “James Thorn, and you are?” he said extending his hand to take hers, finally convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

“To tell you the truth,” she said “I’m not quite sure. I think at one point I knew, but for some reason I can’t recall. How did I get here?” She asked, sitting down.

“I’ll explain in just a moment.” James said sitting next to her. “Do you remember anything that’s happened to you?”

“Somewhat.” She responded softly.

“I don’t mean to pry, but would you mind relating what you can remember?” James asked.

“I suppose so.” She said, “But carrying on a conversation with you will be difficult when I don’t even have a name.”

James looked over at the black iris lying on the floor in the hallway. “How about we call you Iris?” he said.