Alexander felt the day was productive, in a rote kind of way. Many check marks on his notepad… yes, many checks. It was a taxing discipline for him today to only think about his work. He had found a setting to mute all notifications, thus effectively cutting off communication from the distractions it had caused him these weeks. He also mentally blocked off all magic-related thoughts of experiments. He instead concentrated on the work he knew he enjoyed, all for its own sake… at least he knew that was true three and a half weeks ago.

  It was an unusually quiet day, Alexander noticed, as he moved toward the trash compactor for a safety inspection. Passing two employees coming off their lunch break, Alexander greeted them with, “Tuck in your shirt, please, Katy. Thank you.”

  As Alexander hiked the nearly half-mile trek to the building’s far corner, his mind started drifting off.

  “Ow!” he yelped, smacking into a metal pole. The metal sound reverberated in the air around him.

  How horrifying! he thought.

  Not paying attention to where he was walking with this many safety procedures in place. He almost considered writing himself a warning. That would look ridiculous to Susan, however, and he needed to seem competent in her eyes right now. Instead of continuing to the trash compactor, he decided to move back to the office.

  Why is my mind wandering so much? He chastised himself.

  “I’m bored, really honestly too bored to pay attention.” He sighed with resignation and felt a small awe at his ability to identify his mental state. He needed to reset his mind.

  He went to Susan’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in… Alexander, how can I help you?” Susan asked as she shuffled some papers.

  “I would like to use some mental health hours for the rest of today and also tomorrow.”

  “You? You’ve never requested a health day before… Wait—my apologies—company policy says I am not supposed to ask, inquire, whatever. Is there anything pressing I should take care of while you enjoy a day strengthening your weak mind?”

  “I was about to do some safety checks, but they can wait until I return. I have made a list of them and will email them to you on the way out.”

  “Very good, then. Carry on! Or actually the opposite of that. Go goof off!” she said as she mock-saluted him.

  That was it. It seemed the cogs he had so loved could survive a day and a half without him.

  “This is not a mental crisis…” he told himself as he walked out to his car. “…maybe a small crisis of identity.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  As he drove home, Alexander decided to treat himself. He headed to The Binding Bookstore, one of his favorite bookstores, which was regrettably going out of business. He would swing by and pick up a London Fog and bagel, then browse the books in the self-help section for anything relating to his current condition.

  Pulling into the parking lot, he turned around the office supply store to see—not a bookstore—but a blank slate of concrete, with what appeared to be randomly placed water fountains.

  Alexander got out of his car, surprised by the incongruity. He walked over the concrete slab toward the water fountains and saw that they were not fountains at all, but water pipes completely open and exposed. As he moved around, he saw several other pipes emitting the smell of sewage.

  The water that was spraying into the air was from the city supplying the bookstore. Alexander bent down and touched the concrete slab. It was as smooth as polished marble. The entire store had been cut out and moved… or obliterated to the atom. He might need to message the store manager online to see what happened. Alexander had leaned on Jacob many times in his quest for knowledge.

  He sighed in resignation. No treating himself today, it seemed.

  Later that day, Alexander looked over an M4 Sherman tank he had decided to pull out of his “to paint” models. The olive drab–colored base layer completed, he needed to allow time for it to dry. He whipped his brushes out several times and washed them before sitting at his keyboard to play a few songs and pass the time. He started with the first étude of Chopin’s Opus 10.

  The burst of arpeggiated flourish was a favorite warm-up of his. Rolling up and down, he would usually feel the cascading momentum like a waterfall—clearing his mind—but not today. He finished his warm-ups, if for no other reason than habit, and pulled out his music binder. Not knowing what he was looking for, he flipped through the pages for something to suit his mood, but he had no mood to suit, it seemed.

  A phone call interrupted his existential search, and he put the binder down.

  “Ah, Property Manager Daina, thank you for returning my call… No, I haven’t seen any of the large rats… no, nobody is barbecuing too close to the building… I needed to report an apartment modification to my room that was not permitted. Yes… Yes… I disagree; self-reporting is the highest form of integrity…. Well, it’s quite difficult to explain…. You may need to see it yourself… Thank you, I’ll see you then.”

  Alexander hung up his phone. What was he doing again?

  He walked over to his fish tank and scrubbed the glass with an extended sponge where a bit of salt buildup had begun. Everything looked clean and tidy. Daisy peeked her head out of the Cryptocoryne undulata to say hello, or more likely she was hungry. Flick’s claws appeared, swiping into the water at Daisy, and Alexander jumped. He attempted to grab the demi-dragon but wasn’t fast enough to catch him before Flick dove into a shadow. There was no way he could keep up without… well, it didn’t matter.

  “Half portion of beef tonight!” Alexander screamed to the apartment.

  Squeeeaaaak. Flick moaned with sadness.

  “Well, I’ll prep lunches for the week next.” No, that was already done. It’s a Tuesday.

  He could… he could do nothing. He slowly sat on his couch and lifted his head to stare at his aquarium. He felt lost sitting in his own living room, so he watched his fish and zoned out.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Came a pounding on his door.

  “Flick, shadows,” Alexander called to the other room.

  Maybe it was the property manager coming over early, which would be oddly diligent of her.

  Alexander opened the door and swore, “Damn it, Julius!”

  A tall, well-built man stood in Alexander’s doorway. Well-trimmed beard and wavy brown hair. He was attractive and had been since high school. He also happened to be the bane of Alexander’s existence.

  “Language, brother. You don’t want Mother to hear you,” Julius said, cracking a small, guilty smile.