why me?

I was in a place much like where the Little Prince finds himself with a mathematician (or was it an accountant?). My feet were touching sand, my eyes were stung by strong winds, a fabric of a skirt swishing between my legs. Whenever I tried hard enough I could see the curve of the planet I was standing on. Further on was the bottom of another planet looming ahead.

A voice asks me, "How old are you?" It seemed sadly serious.

I don't remember replying.

"How old are you, Sara? How old?" Somewhere were fingers clasping a pen poised on paper, about to write the figures I was asked to give.

"I," I began, "I.. I don't know!" I went hysterical.

"But I've got a boyfriend who's 25 so my age should be around his."

I heard a frown. Damn these eyes! How come I can't see? The sand under my feet felt threatened to pull me down if I can't answer.

I woke up. Sad. Serious.

How old am I?

I look up at the ceiling. Blank. I turn to my right. I get to my small table and pull out pen and paper. It's 2006, I wrote, and I was born in 1982, so that makes me..

"24!"

But then I remember that my birthday is not until on September so I'm still 23.

My first answer was wrong.

Oh my, how can I forget my age?