Twenty-FiveThe walk back to my apartment was unmemorable. My thoughts clouded, and it seemed my body and mind were completely different entities acting independently of each other, while my eyes only observed. Only two things stood out in my mind, walking out of the old woman's house and walking back into my apartment, every moment in between was lost.
My hand threw the book down on the kitchen counter and grabbed a can of pop from the fridge, my eyes watched every move. Still disconnected, my body made its way into the living room, while my mind sifted through the evidence – cataloguing, disposing, and storing. My body worked on autopilot, my eyes an innocent bystander to her actions as they watched my hand place the can on the coffee table and my body flung herself down on the couch.
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