Terry had another flash.

A hit of ecstasy.
The door of a bathroom stall.
A high school classroom.
His mother.

His mind was either rapidly reconstructing itself or slowly deteriorating. Why is it I know the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 and that a coffee mug sits before me, but I can’t convince myself my name is really Terry?

Sgt. Rollins burst into the interrogation room.

“We don’t have enough to hold you.”

“I’m free to go?”

“A word of advice. If a little fly appears and tells me you’re anywhere near Twiggy Banks’ apartment downtown, I’ll bust your ass.”

“Justice will be served.”

“Stay away from Twiggy Banks. Oh, and one other thing.” Sgt. Rollins handed him a sheet of paper. “Thought you might want to know where you live you absent-minded nut-bag.”

“If I ever see you in a dark alley-”

“That a threat?”

Terry grinned, criminally.

He departed from the police station, a nasty plan forming in his unstable mind. He knew exactly how he would kill Twiggy Banks.