Hit your mind's rewind button. You woke up fumbling for the shrieking alarm clock and you drank orange juice after brushing your teeth. You sniffed the clothes you wore two days before, deciding that you could wear them again. Rush hour was the usual, frustration and smog and middle fingers. An unfamiliar Mercedes was in your parking space. Your boss chewed you out in front of everyone for being late, even though that five-car pile-up was certainly beyond your control. Instead of taking a lunch break, you choked down a dry turkey sandwich while scrolling through endless work emails. You were unfairly scapegoated during the afternoon meeting by that backstabbing asshole Hendersen, never mind that he was the one that provided the wrong figures for the report in the first place. You were asked to stay late, even though you had plans, and the boss wasn't really asking because you knew that if you said no he would remember it the next time that people needed to be laid off. By the time you cleared everything out of your inbox, it was dark outside.
You wake up, knowing by the brightness of the street lights that it's only just past midnight. You wonder how long you've been asleep. You feel itchy. When you go to scratch, you find that you are still fully clothed, and that your clothes are covered with a sickening-feeling crust. The smell of stale copper fills your nostrils. It's on your face and in your hair and under your nails. You don't know what happened. You don't want to know what happened. You have to know. You have to know.