*****
Ward strode down the aisle angrily, enjoying the hard tapping of his footsteps on the old wood. This dump was ridiculous and he certainly did not belong here. Once he got home, he could check his desk calendar and figure out what his plans had been last night; that would jog his memory enough to bring it back.
He deliberately kept his eyes straight ahead. The junk on the shelves was weird and kept distracting him if he actually looked at it. At the end of the aisle, the wall looked like nothing more than the side of an unfinished wooden warehouse. A beat-up old piano and black cast iron stove stood near the door.
The door was an ordinary wooden one with a round brass knob. The knob turned under his hand and he yanked it open with relief. He stepped out, his hand still on the doork
