8:00 PM.

  His chest tightened. His fingers felt numb.

  It wasn’t morning. It was night.

  He had lost an entire day.

  His mind reeled, searching for explanations. A glitch? A prank? A medical condition?

  He swallowed hard. This wasn’t the time to panic.

  He forced out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Damn, looks like I got my AM and PM mixed up."

  The coworker laughed, but Nick barely heard it. His pulse thundered in his ears.

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  Without another word, he left work and headed home.

  Sitting in his apartment, he tried to think through what had happened. He came to a conclusion.

  Shit happens. Accept it and move on.

  That evening, he indulged himself—a whole fried chicken, a large salad, three different kinds of juice, and a bottle of dark soda.

  Then he set multiple alarms, triple-checked them, and went to bed. The air in his apartment felt strangely dense, carrying a metallic tang he couldn't quite place. His eyes fluttered shut faster than usual—too fast.

  Falling, Again

  Nick woke up.

  But not to his alarm.

  He woke up falling.

  Cold air rushed past him. His stomach lurched as his body hit the hard, unforgiving floor.

  A sharp gasp tore from his throat. He lay there, stunned, staring at the ceiling, trying to process.

  Then, slowly, he sat up.

  His mind felt like it was unraveling.

  Okay.

  Now he definitely needed to visit a psychologist.

  And maybe a neurologist.