In Trouble For The Things I Haven't Got To Yet

Woke up in an airport on the other side of the country this morning. The cattle surrounding me spoke with peculiar accents and paid no attention to me. Had it not been for the public address welcoming travelers I would have had no idea where I was. When "Boston" registered in my brain a sinking feeling laid upon me. I had no earthly reason to be there. My phone had no messages or email. My calendar read "vacation" in bold letters through all of this week. When I read Tuesday on the date bar it seemed so foreign to me. I remember spending the night with Candace on Thursday. Four days of no account. The blackouts are getting worse. After a few minutes of bewilderment I headed to the restroom to collect myself. In the solitude of a stall I began to rifle through my coat and pants pockets for clues. I came across a plane ticket to take me back to the city. I found some comfort in that minute detail being resolved. In the left breast pocket of my coat I found a small container holding two bright green eyeballs. They answered at least part of the reason for coming to Boston. The eyes were quite exquisite. Just looking at them I could feel the blood engorging my member, imagining the pain and suffering that yielded such an exotic treasure. Tearing myself away from the objects of my attraction I continued my search. It didn't reveal anymore surprises. After a quick splash of water to the face, I returned to the concourse more attuned to my surroundings. I surveyed the area for police, spotting a few at the far end laughing and joking over coffee and doughnuts. About an hour later I quietly boarded my flight and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Strange Days Indeed

Still no signs of my missing days. I've been constantly fixated on the news every waking moment between work and placating Candace. I've barely slept in days and still nothing. Several murders, but nothing that I would do. Mostly a bunch of idiot cattle squabbling over trivial things and ending in bloodshed. One item did catch my eye though. An occult store owner named Patric Elgin went missing several days ago. It doesn't fit my time line, but it's interesting nonetheless. The article states that Elgin is a part time professor in medieval at the university and is considered to be pillar of his community. I find "occult" and "pillar of the community" to be mutually exclusive of one another, generally speaking. Usually hearing occult makes the civic leaders shrivel in fear and the churches round up their believers began their crusade against Satan. I'm actually curious to see how this turns out.

No Revelations

So far no discoveries in my missing days. I ferociously searched the news for any signs, but to no avail. I decided to call in sick to try and wrap my head around things. I ended up having lunch with Candace to try to smooth things over. She was predictably pissed at me. I put on my "human mask" and explained the pressures I was having to deal with in my new position. I milked the sympathy for all it was worth. It was pretty effective, in fact she apologized to me for getting upset. It was a rather comical episode. While we were dining I noticed a reflection in the glass. Seated a few tables away from us was Mirror Man having lunch with a group of cattle. He looked like he was having a business meeting. I hadn't even thought of him since the day I lost him in the garage. I could feel the anger and hatred rising below the surface. I kept my attention divided by his every move and Candace's babbling. After a time he became aware that he was being watched. I saw him cautiously glance around the dining room. He caught a glimpse of my reflection. A leering smile plastered his face. His contempt brought my anger to the surface. Candace could see a change in my demeanor as my skin became flush. She asked if I was alright. I managed to slide my "human mask" back on and placate her. We finished our meal and I walked her out and got her a cab. After she was gone I returned my focus to Mirror Man but he was nowhere to be found. I asked the hostess if it had seen him go, but it was no help to me. I hopped on a train and rode around for awhile but I couldn't find a trace of him.

Lost Days

Woke with a start this morning. It was several minutes before I recognized my own bedroom. I have no recollection of the last 48 hours. I remember leaving the office late Friday evening. I took the train to the Galleria to meet Candace. We had a quiet dinner at Gnucci's. I remember leaving with her and going back to her place. Everything after that is a blur. My first thought was that I had killed her. My mind raced at the prospect of having to cover up her murder two days after the fact. I looked at my phone and saw several missed calls and text messages from Candace, 3 dated this morning. I read the texts and listened to the voice mails, trying to piece together at least part of the weekend. I gathered that at some point late Friday or early Saturday I abandoned her bed without telling her. Lot of anger and worry in her voice. I'll call her later. I'll explain that I had something urgent at the office. I'm pretty sure I can portray sympathy well enough to make her feel bad about being upset with me. In the mean time I have to figure out what the hell happened and why I can't remember. These blackouts are becoming more frequent. If I don't get a handle on them soon all my plans with lay in ruins.