She's throwing me out. She’s really throwing me out of our bedroom. She just doesn’t understand, and at the moment, I’m not sure she wants to, either. I find myself dazed in the hallway outside my office with no recollection of how I arrived there. My mind must have been on auto pilot. I thrust the double doors open; they hit the walls with a bang. I should call my mother because I know she'll be up, to dredge some insight. I should call Flynn at this hour, just because I can. But I do neither. My brain spasms in my skull, unable to grasp my anger, my fear, or whatever this emotion is. I can't name it. I really can't even properly feel it, but it's there, stabbing me in the temples. It hurts.
“Sir?”
Taylor. s**t. I don't know how I got to my desk either, but my head is resting on my arms
