Fleeting, like cirrus clouds on a windy day, thoughts moved through his head. None of them made sense. There was a vague nagging at the back of his mind that pushed him toward retracing last night's events.

Settling on an explanation of what might have occurred made him feel as if he were being dragged by a slow-moving boat through the mud. Something was unsettling deep within him. And it was odd the way he wasn't able to see his actions.

"Let's see," he mumbled to himself as he peered out into the garage, "my car seems to be missing, my sleeves have blood on them, my shoe is soaked, and then there is the small problem of this knife."

He glanced again at the enormous bowie knife on his kitchen counter. He had never seen a knife this large before. It looked as if it could fell a raging beast! Where had it come from?

As he stood under the welcome heat of the shower, he tried to piece things together. He admittedly had a history of mornings like this one, without the blood, of course. They usually involved long nights in a bar conquering the worm. There had to be a logical explanation. His drinking was more under control now, wasn't it? Had he blacked out? He was sure that he hadn't been out last night at all.

He grabbed at a memory; a phone call from...wait...he could just remember the phone's discordant ringing waking him from his clammy, lonely sleep. He recalled that his air conditioner had been on the fritz so he had been tossing and turning uncomfortably. Someone had called him, someone insistent that he come immediately. But, come where? Who had called? The voice was unfamiliar but familiar too. He wondered if it had been one of his many former attractive, yet vaccuous acquaintances. No, no...that wasn't it. Was it one of the burly, muscle heads that collected his debts? They wouldn't call... 

As he toweled off, he startled when his dog, Sam, wagged against his leg.

"Hey, buddy, do you need to go out?" he started for the sliding doors at the back of the house. He was surprised that the sun was just rising, pink and orange over the treetops. He felt as if he had run a 20 mile marathon and wanted nothing more than to head back to bed.

He started to get dressed when a flash of memory blinded him.