It was good of you to come out, man. Alex said over the phone of his fifth beer. It's

been too long. It has been, hasn't it?

Alex and I had been best friends in college, but these days we barely saw each other, even

though we lived in the same town. There was a long silence, our eyes drifted to the

game on the screen above the bar. Alex scratched at something beneath his ear.

Look, I know I haven't done the best job of keeping in touch. As Alex modded his itching

intensified, I don't know what's wrong with me. Hey man, life gets in the way, I understand.

I collect him on the shoulder. No, I mean, as my friend leaned in close, I noticed his eyes,

bloodshot, an animal wide and marble round. Had I missed it before? I mean, Alex whispered,

I don't know what's wrong with me.

Some instinct, made me want to pull back when Alex moved even closer and lifted his ear

lobe. He pointed to a little scar, about two inches long and closed with stitches.

Have you seen anything like that before?

Did you have an operation or something? I asked, confused.

It looks fine. No, Alex panned the table with his fist and his face screwed up in a mask of anger.

I drink slosh and spilled. I felt the irritated glances of other patrons on the back of my neck.

No, that's just it. I woke up and felt this itch. Then I touched this place in my neck

and found this cut, like a surgical cut, and a pair of stitches. Now, I ask you, how could something

like that happen without me noticing? I bought some time with a long sip of beer. No idea,

man. That's a pretty strange. And that's not all that exist. I felt off ever since. I wake up

sore, but I don't remember any workouts, or I try to remember what I did at a certain time of

day. Let's say between 6 and 9 o'clock, and I get nothing. Or even worse, I get these vague memories

...