Walking down the hall, you just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with the world. It feels like something small, such as getting the wrong flavor of ice cream but not noticing, but your mind just keeps coming back to whatever it is that you don't know.

"Officer McClinton--" you start to say.

"For the last time, you idiot," McClinton shouts back, flicking ash off of his cigarette at you. "My name is Carl."

"Ok, Carl. Do you feel like something weird is going on?" The back of your head starts to ache.

"Nothing worth--irritating a commanding--officer over," Carl says between drags.

"It's just...I feel like something odd has happened. That last apartment...was off. What was his name anyway?" Your headache begins to grow.

Carl flips open a pad of paper. "Didn't write it down, but, to be honest, I haven't written any names down today. Isn't worth it on these shit-value calls."

"But--" You lean against a wall, waiting for the migraine to pass. "That teddy bear...why was it...so...big?"

Carl looks over at you concerned. "You look like shit. You OK?"

"I can--almost--re--member--something." Your eyes close involuntarily to block out the pain. "But it's--slipping--slipping away."