His last 5 ficlets all seemed to be poems, but they just didn’t make sense to him. He pondered a few of the lines:

The span will last
till noon is past
and …

He trailed off in though trying to remember when he had written them. “No. I would have clearly remembered writing that garbage.” Dammit, someone hacked my account. He started to submit a bug report, but instead clicked on write.

This time he could feel the thoughts in his mind, only they weren’t his. With this realization the link terminated.

Just as he managed to take some sort of control and made his way to the kitchen for some water, he heard a loud CRACK at his front door.

“FBI . . GET ON THE GROUND !”