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Summary
His mind was hazy and he hadn't even had a drop of alcohol yet. As his eyes tried to focus on the white, tile ceiling, his mind was constantly at war with his memory. He was searching blank papers for any kind of recollection of who he was or what happened.
Maybe his body could do a better job of remembering. He got out of the hospital bed, ripped off the monitors and tubes then threw on his leather vest and pants as he checked himself out.
Great, it was down-pouring.
