The heat of the July morning shined through the open window. He pulled the covers over his head but the heat penetrated the sheets. He rolled over to the other edge of the bed to try to get away from it. But it was no use. The sunlight caught and burned his arm just the same.

He groaned. "Why is the sun up so freakin early?"

He shoved the covers off his body with a flick of his leg and sat up. He regretted that a millisecond later. His head pounded with the sudden rush of blood draining from it. He rubbed his temple, not daring to open his eyes, fearing that light would make it worse.

He groaned, grabbed the pillow and placed it over his head. The drinks got the best of him last night and this morning.

His ears started ringing. That's a new symptom he thought. He pressed the pillow over his head trying to drown it out but it wouldn't stop. First the sun, now this. The fine high high-pitched ringing was persistent, loud and obnoxious. But it sounded familiar, too familiar. He tossed the pillow to the side, it landed short of the open window. He found his phone perched on the edge of the side table. His alarm was going off. His eyes widened at the time displayed in bold black letters on the screen. 9:00 AM.

He cursed under his breath and shot up too fast, the vertigo knocked him back down. It happened again, another Saturday night gone too far. He checked his missed calls. There were ten, all from Sam.

"Shit!" He cursed with a hoarse and try throat. He would return the call, but he knew what she was going to say already. It wasn't worth it, he thought. His best option was to crawl into the office with his tail between his legs, begging not to get fired.

He got up slower this time and trudged down the narrow hallway to the tiny bathroom in his one-bedroom apartment. He kicked piles of clothes off to the side. He cursed at himself for failing to do his laundry for the third week in a row.

He turned on the brown-stained faucet in the bathroom and splashed his face with water. It helped only a little to sober him.

"Water, I need water." He shut off the pipe. He stumbled into the living area and then held onto the kitchen counter. His headache got worse when he realized that the entire sun had made its way into the living room.

The curtains were open in here too, but he rarely opened his curtains, especially not in the morning.

"Water," he reminded himself. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a half-empty bottle of water he had. He gulped it down with some of it spilling over his cheeks.

It wasn't enough. He searched the fridge again for another one.

"Shit was that the last one?"

"Mmmmm." He jumped at the sudden groan.

"The fu-."

Something groaned again and the piles of blankets on the couch moved. He grabbed a butter knife from the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. He shuffled with a shaky hand toward the couch.

"Hello? I don't know what you are but you gotta get the fuck out!" He shouted.

It groaned and moved again. The blanket shifted revealing a puff of dark curly hair. He jumped back, hitting his head against the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

"Ah!" He rubbed the back of his head. "I'm too hungover for this shit."

The thing rolled and the pile of blankets collapsed on the tiled floor. There on his couch was a woman in nothing more than a thong.

He stood there with his mouth agape. He dropped the knife. It fell to the floor with a clang.

The girl groaned and rolled over revealing plump breasts and a makeup-smudged face. He turned away, not wanting to stare too long.

"Fuck!" He cursed. He had no recollection of who she was. His phone loudly rang on the kitchen counter.

He ran over to it before she could wake. He answered before checking who it was.

"Where the hell are you?! I've been calling you all morning!" Sam yelled through the phone.

Loud enough to wake up sleeping beauty though the phone wasn't on speaker.

"I know I'm sorry. I ugh have a situation here," he whispered walking down the hall back to his room.

"Everybody has a situation, Henry. Don't you think David wants to go home to his wife and kids after an 8-hour shift? Ever thought of that?"

"I know, I know I'm sorry. I'm leaving the house right now." He grabbed a used uniform shirt from a pile of clothes on the floor. He sniffed it. His days-old deodorant clung to the armpits.

"I thought you'd say you're in the parking lot."

"Ok, I'm in the parking lot." He checked for a shirt in the closet. There was none. He hung his head. The line went quiet.

"Hello?" Maybe it was a bad time for a bad joke.

"Get here in the next ten minutes or else you're fired."

The F word lit a fire under his feet. He shrugged on the shirt. Grabbed his car keys. Then a door closed down the hall.

He'd forgotten about her. "Shit."

He walked snuck down the hallway of his apartment. The bathroom door was closed and there was no one in the living room.

He paced back and forth. He needed to brush his teeth at least. She swung the door open as he was about to knock. He stumbled over the pile of clothes. At least she was wrapped in a blanket.

They stared at each other. He still didn't remember her or anything that went on last night.

It felt like an eternity till she spoke.

"Good morning."

"Uhhhh, morning." He squinted his eyes trying to remember even a letter of her name. "Mmmmmaaa-"

"Ophelia." She stepped past him.

"Ophelia, right right. Henry."

"I remember." She sat down on the couch, instead of getting dressed.

"Right, so I need to go to work."

"Okay cool." She took up a phone that was on the floor.

Henry leaned his head to one side. "Right well, you should go to work too?"

"Seriously on a Sunday morning?" She said without looking up from her phone.

"Right well, home?"

"It is a nice apartment."

"No I mean, you need to go to your home."

She looked up from her phone and got up leaving the blanket behind.

Henry averted his eyes. She smirked.

"Seriously, after the night we had? Not even breakfast?"

She was inches away from him. Her breath was warm on his face. He swallowed hard. He didn't remember her but she was his type.

His phone rang in his pocket.

"Breakfast right. Uhm, I'm sure you can find a coffee shop somewhere."

He rushed and picked up what looked like her clothes from around the room. There was a black bra and black shorts on the floor—a white top on the armchair and a fishnet stocking on the lampshade in the corner.

He gave them to her. She put her clothes on right there, not bothering with privacy. Henry busied himself with finding his shoes and a pair of socks.

When she was just about ready she waited by the door. He approached to open the door. She stepped in front of the lock and held her palm out.

He looked down at her delicate hand.

"What?"

She smiled, showing slightly crooked but charming teeth and a faint dimple on her right cheek.

"Phone silly," she rolled her dark brown eyes. With most of her makeup washed off, he could see what a beauty she was, and what might've drawn him to her. Pity he couldn't remember it.

Henry shook his head. She took the phone from his hand. She tapped in her number and called herself before saving her name as Ophelia with a kissing emoji beside it.

"Alright let's go."

"Shoot I didn't brush my teeth." He opened the door and shoved her out.

"What the...." he slammed the door harder than intended.

"Asshole!" She called.

He ignored her kicking the door, rushing to brush his teeth. He grabbed everything else he needed and opened the door.

Beyond the threshold stood two men in blue uniforms and badges and a tiny Ophelia behind them.

"Henry Smickle?" Henry stepped back. What kind of lies did she tell about him?

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it." He defended. " I woke up to her in my apartment. If anything I should have called the police on her."

Both officers looked at each other.

"Step outside for a minute, please. There's something we'd like to show you."

"Uhm I'm sorry officer but I have to go to work." He locked the door and tried to move past the officers and Ophelia.

"I'm sorry but we must insist." They didn't seem like they were going to budge. And the last thing he needed was another case. He barely managed to get this job and trouble with the cops wouldn't look good.

"I told you. I don't know her."

"This isn't about her. At least not now."

"Yeah, I was just a victim," Ophelia spoke up.

Henry's eyes widened. "Victim? Victim of what? If anything I'm the victim!"

One police officer stepped between them. "There's something you need to see." Henry furrowed his brows.

He walked down the corridor, with the second officer. Ophelia walked by his side. He wondered why she was still there and if it was a trick to get all his money. Too bad for her, he was broke.

They walked down the open stairwell and off the compound onto the street. Down the street, several people were gathered.

"Can you confirm the license plate, make and model of your car?"

He looked at the two officers. "Yeah, it's a 2016 Toyota Corolla. I don't get it." The two officers looked at each other. Then back at him. They walked him down the street toward the crowd.

Toward where his car was parked. He spotted his landlord, Mrs. Evans among the crowd and wondered what could the fuss be about.

The crowd parted when they saw him. Some stood with tears in their eyes. Others shook their head when they saw him. The area was barricaded off with yellow caution tape and two other officers stood by to help control the crowd.

"Wha... wha... what happened to my fucking car?" He screamed. The windscreen was cracked and covered in blood.

"We were hoping you could tell us," one of the officers answered.

"Murderer!" Someone from the crowd shouted, they had tears in their eyes and clutched at their chest as if he'd killed their kid.

"I don't know what the hell is going on but I didn't do anything, I didn't kill anyone!" Henry defended.

The two officers exchanged glances, not believing a word he said.

"It's true! Just ask her!" It was then that he realized that Ophelia was nowhere to be seen. While they were talking, she'd vanished.

One officer held Henry by the arm. "We'd like you to come to the station with us!" The crowd was growing angrier the more he protested his innocence.

"Liar! You killed someone!"

The other officer tried his best to calm them down. Someone? So they don't know whose blood it is?

Henry yanked his arm away. "Am I under arrest?"

"No, no," the officer said, "we just have some questions about your whereabouts. And I don't think you want to answer them here."

"Well if I'm not under arrest then I can just go to work then?"

"You aren't arresting this murderer?" a lady called out, "police have no use! What more evidence do you need?"

He recognized her as his neighbour from downstairs. He never liked her. Her dog was always shitting in the hallway and she never cleaned it up.

"I think it's in your best interest to come with us," the officer smiled reassuringly. But he wasn't comforted. Whatever he did would seem like an admission of guilt for something he had no recollection of doing.

Henry sighed. "Okay, well let me at least call my supervisor. She'll be worried about me."

"Sure, you can do it in the car."

~~~~~

"Yes I know, you're going to have my ass," Henry whispered into the phone. "No, I'm going to be there, just give me two hours."

He checked the rearview mirror. None of the officers was paying attention to him or so it seemed. He held the phone close to his lips.

"I know you're going to take it out of my pay. I'll do triple shifts next time." Sam hung up the phone with not even as much as a goodbye.

"I know this is important but could we make this quick? I'm kind of late for work."

The two officers chuckled. "Sure, Mr. Smickle, we'll do our best."

They pulled up to the station and parked the vehicle beside the building. They directed Henry through the side entrance leading to a hallway away from the main waiting area.

It was strange. When he was arrested before, they never brought him through the VIP entrance. They took him to a small office that was so dark, that he thought the day had shifted to night. One officer turned the lights on revealing a small desk packed with papers and folders of papers, a tiny laptop and a gun. Henry froze at the sight of the weapon.

"Hold up, sorry about that," a man squeezed passed them. He held a small paper cup of coffee in his hand and took a tiny sip. "Ah, hot, shit!" he cursed. The contents spilt over one stack of papers. He flashed the papers off before they stained and shoved the gun into a drawer. He took a seat in his stripped leather chair before greeting Henry.

"Morning. Take a seat." The two officers shut the door behind him. This was new for him. It wasn't an interrogation room or the general area. This was serious he thought as he looked around. There were no windows, the air was stale, and the room was cluttered with paper. The only decoration was a dated calendar on the wall, showing the year 2021. It was suffocating.

The officer cleared his throat again. "Have a seat."

Henry sat in a metal chair, one that was cold to the touch. Probably dedicated to criminals. The officer took another sip of his coffee and unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. Then he placed a tiny old-school voice recorder on the desk. He pressed the record button.

"Morning. I'm Detective Williams, and you are?"

Henry furrowed his brows. He was questioning me and he didn't know my name.

"Henry Smickle?" he said unclear of what else to say.

"Yes, Smickle. Sorry, the old brain forgets things." The man looked to be in his mid-forties. Not a day over forty-six maybe.

Henry managed a faint smile.

"So Smickle, where were you between the hours of 5 pm Saturday and 7 am Sunday?"

Detective Williams opened up his laptop and began to type. When Henry didn't answer, he looked up.

"Go ahead I'm listening."

Henry began to sweat from his temple, more profusely than when standing in the midday sun in July. The problem was he couldn't remember anything. He thought he'd only forgotten about Ophelia, but he couldn't remember anything after leaving work. He'd woken up with a headache. That's it. He went out drinking right? With Mark and them?

But he couldn't remember a call or text. Wait... what bar did they go to? Buzzers? Dreamstate? Nothing was dragging his memory. He didn't even remember driving home. It was like someone had taken an eraser and rubbed out everything. He'd been drunk before but he was always able to remember some things.

"Smickle, hello?" Detective Williams snapped his fingers.

"Uh yes, where was I?"

"You didn't even start." Henry looked at the officer. He was focused on Henry. He seemed to be reading everything about him, every twitch of his face, he to pick up on. A contrast to the clumsy man that walked in five minutes ago.

Henry had two options. Lie about his whereabouts, or tell the truth that she drugged him. He had no proof of either but something wasn't adding up. If he lied and said who he was with or where they could easily find out the truth. If he said he was roofied, they could test him. But what if they found nothing?

"Well you see uhm, I think someone stole my car."

Williams leaned forward "Someone stole your car?"

"Yes, they must have. This is about the blood right? On the windshield?"

Williams took a sip of his coffee. He drank it with ease this time. "Yes."

"Well, I was at home last night. I woke up, there was this random girl in my apartment and then the police came and then I saw the blood on the windshield. I have no idea how it got there or where it came from."

"Where are your keys?"

"Car keys?"

Williams nodded. Henry hung his head, realizing what was happening. He took them out of his pocket and placed them on the table.

"But you have your keys, so how would the car have been stolen?"

"They have all sorts of ways to steal cars without keys nowadays."

"But your car wasn't tampered with at all."

"Criminals are smarter nowadays."

Williams' gaze deepened as if he was looking into Henry's soul.

"Yes, they are."

Just then his phone rang again. Henry looked at the caller ID and he sunk into his chair.

"You can answer it."

He reluctantly swiped up to answer the call.

"Hello?"

He sat silently as Sam berated him for an eternity. "It looks like I won't be able to come in today."

She cursed at him some more. Officers showed up at the office where he worked as a security guard, asking about him. Questioning the staff and David.

She hung up abruptly. Henry sighed. "Well, it looks like I'm fired."