Somehow my Fridays always manage to be the most complicated days of the week: my patients with the darkest problems and gloomiest spirits end up coming to my practice mostly on Fridays. I hope it’s because I somehow alleviate their troubles, and they like to start fresher for the weekend and hopefully take some rest from their problems.
Today James was even more scared than last Friday.
James: “I still don’t remember anything that happened two weeks ago, Doctor. I have a hole in my mind, as if I were somebody else during those days.”
He was talking about the days between Thursday July 19th and Sunday 22nd.
Myself: “You were in the middle of an intense hypomaniac episode: amnesia is one of the possible side effects of the episode itself and of the medications we used to reduce its intensity and duration. I wouldn’t worry about that too much.”
James: “Fine, but a few days ago I found something: some texts in my phone, received during those missing days. They look very strange.
Myself: “What do they say?”
James: “They are instructions to go to a certain place each day: on Thursday night it was an apartment building in East Harlem; on Friday afternoon, shortly after our conversation, it was a warehouse in New Jersey. This probably explains why I didn’t go home on Friday night. I started to ask myself what did I do there, who was there with me.
And the strangest of all things? I searched for the phone number that sent those texts: it doesn’t exist.”
I just thought: hidden number, can happen.
James: “I kept worrying for days, then I had an idea: why don’t I take a look on the internet, and see if anything happened in those places at the times I was supposed to be there?”
He looked at me, his eyes wide open, waiting for me to ask.
Myself: “What did you find?”
James shivered, his eyes now wondering around the office: “I found something on the building in East Harlem. There was a shooting on Thursday night.”