It wouldn't hurt to flip through some channels.

I climb into bed and immediately, as my head drops into the pillow, I feel a hard object under it. I reach out and grab a big remote control. I look for the power button and I push it. The TV doesn't turn on. I push it again, harder, to see if the button was jammed. The TV then turns on. It is set to channel 3, the default channel the TV sets to after one check out of the room.

I find the channel up and down button and push up for a few channels. Documentaries, children's shows, late-nite comedies and drams, a couple Hispanic and Asian channels, and some news and music channels.

On one of the news channel, the pictures catch my eye, and I immediately stop flipping channels. I catch the news anchorman saying something of an Allen Macintosh, 26 years old, son of a wealthy brokerage firm owner named Richard Macintosh. The name rung a bell, even though I don't remember anything of my mysterious past, past life, or anything that happened before I woke up on the side of the road with a sheriff's flashlight shining on my half-asleep eyes.

The name kept ringing in my ears. Allen Macintosh, Allen Macintosh. It stuck out like a sore thumb. I then paid attention to the story being told by the anchorman. He said he was missing for 2 weeks now. Witnesses who last saw him was a secretary of Richard Macintosh and a few other co-workers. When I saw the secretary giving a false-sounding explanation, I recognized her, but I didn't know where, let alone her name. Then a picture of Allen was shown on the screen. My eyes widened, and I fainted into my pillow. The sounds of the commercials on the TV could be heard, but since I passed out, I couldn't hear it. Not even turn the TV off.