Vanessa tried her hardest to focus on her work. The more she looked at the words on the screen, the more the images of last night flashed through her mind. Her wrists were sore, but was that just another trick her mind was playing?

She could almost feel her body hitting the cop car. The images of the dead body laying on the ground in her apartment remind her of the reason she was getting arrested. Who was that guy? How did he get in her apartment? What had happened to him? A million questions rushed through her mind. Her fingers frozen above the keyboard, waiting for their chance to dance across the keys.

There were emails to be answered, but Vanessa felt like she couldn't breathe. Her chest was growing tighter, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

There is no way they would have let her go to work the next day if she had gotten arrested for murder.

But she could see everything almost perfectly. The blue dress she was wearing, did she even own that blue dress? She could remember every detail of it. The way it cinched at her waist, but the material was still billowy enough she barely felt it. The brown sandals that gripped her legs as if she were a goddess prepared for war. Her hair had been pulled up in a tight bun, only a few loose strands surrounded her face. Maybe that explained her headache?

Vanessa shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee in front of her. The flavors tickled her taste buds, adding even just a little bit of comfort. More comfort than the coffee in the break room could ever offer her.

"It all felt so real." Vanessa shook her head once more, stretching her fingers in front of herself, listening for the satisfying cracks. "The cop car, everything."

She searched her arms, looking for any sense of bruising. That would be her sign. If there were no dark spots then she couldn't have been arrested last night, Vanessa had always struggled with bruising like a peach. Often coming home from work with multiple marks on her arms just from tapping things around her desk.

When she looked at her skin, she didn't find anything. There were no signs of damage done the previous night. Vanessa had to come to the conclusion that it was all just a dream. No matter how real it felt.

But she could still see the lights flashing through her window, the smell of the officer's breath as he leaned against her, making sure she didn't run away while he placed the handcuffs on her wrists. Running her fingers over where they were tender as a reminder of the dream.

"If it hadn't really happened, then why do my wrists hurt so bad?" Vanessa's voice was louder than she would have liked. The words were almost startling to her. She looked around the cubicle to see if anyone had noticed. She needed to remember to not talk to herself, but sometimes she couldn't tell that she was.

"Wild night last night?" One of the new interns leans around the corner, her eyes looking Vanessa over, judging her every breath.

"What?" Vanessa stutters, nearly falling back in her chair.

"You just said your wrists hurt. I'd assume you had a wild night then?" Vanessa wrinkles her nose. She didn't know this imposing stranger, and she didn't want to. She tried to will her to leave with her deep brown eyes, begging for the girl to disappear.

"Who are you?" Vanessa asks, trying to avoid the question she genuinely didn't have an answer for.

"April, sorry didn't mean to intrude, but you were kind of freaking me out talking to yourself in here." Vanessa looked at April's blonde curls, wound so tightly against her head they might be pulling on her skull.

"Well April, what does it matter to you why my wrists hurt or don't hurt?" Vanessa wasn't in the mood for someone no-name stranger to pretend to have an opinion of her life. She wanted to get her work done and try to survive yet another day.

"Sorry." April muttered, turning away from the cubicle and walking towards her own.

Vanessa grabbed a notepad from her desk and put pen to paper with all the details of her dream from last night. Maybe if she could get them out of her head, she would be able to focus on her work.

"Blue dress."

"Police car."

"Dead body."

All were things Vanessa didn't realize she was muttering under her breath. Or she thought it was under her breath.

"Dead body?" Jeffrey shouts from the hallway.

Vanessa shoots up in her seat, realizing her entire notepad was filled with tiny little scribbles. She tried to read the words, but couldn't decipher any of the markings. Was she writing in English?

"Vanessa, that is enough. Please gather your things and finish your day from home, or even better, take a damn personal day! You are freaking everyone out." Jeffrey shook with anger, just seconds away from exploding in front of the office.

"A personal day?" Vanessa shook her head in confusion. She didn't mean to interrupt anyone.

April hid behind Jeffrey, trying to hide her face from the girl she had obviously tattled on.

"Yes, now gather your things and go draw random lines somewhere else." Jeffrey glanced over her notebook, seeing the lines of gibberish. "Jesus Christ, you are weird."

Vanessa wasn't sure what to do with herself on a personal day. Her job was something that helped her survive, and if she didn't fill the next six hours with work, what else was she supposed to do?

A part of her wanted to head back to the coffee shop. The worker had left an impression on her, but she wasn't sure how to do so without being weird. Vanessa would have to go home.

She pushed the notebook into her bag and closed her laptop on her desk before placing that in the bag as well. Before Vanessa could stumble out of her cubicle, she tripped on the edge of the chair, crashing into the desk. Her wrist stopped her from seriously falling, but a sharp pain shot through her arm to replace the dull throbbing that's been there all morning.

"Ouch!" Vanessa shouts, holding her wrist with her opposite hand. She glances over her hand, looking for any marks, and it was then when she noticed the bruises from last night. They had to be from last night. There was no way they could have formed that quickly..

"What the hell?" Vanessa questioned. If there were bruises there, then that means she couldn't tell the difference between if it was a dream or not..

"I said go home!" Jeffrey shouted once again, reminding her she wasn't welcome at the office today.

"I'm going!" Vanessa shrieked back, her voice cracking with the force. Her breathing had quickened, and all she wanted was for someone to give her a second to breathe.

Vanessa wasn't sure what she would do once she got home, but she felt like she needed to get there quicker than ever now that she'd found the bruises on her wrists. How did she not see them earlier? She'd searched all morning and hadn't found anything that would lead her to believe she'd actually been handcuffed. But when she hit her wrist on the table, they were there.

Had everything she thought about last night been a lie?

Vanessa had walked to work this morning, just like most others, so she took to her usual path home, her pace faster than normal. She weaved through people frustrated that no matter what time of day it was you couldn't just walk somewhere in a straight line. You always had to dodge strangers. The morning was crisp, so she pulled her jacket tighter around her body, tossing the hood on her head. She didn't want to make eye contact with anyone in normal New York fashion.

The walk took no more than twenty minutes, but the stairs to get to her apartment on the fifteenth floor were a daunting final step. Soon she would be home and she'd be able to check out the crime scene from last night. She hadn't noticed anything this morning when she left for work, but maybe she missed something?

Vanessa felt like she was going insane, the fact that she even thought this could be real even just for a second was enough to send her to the mental hospital. How could there have been a dead body in her apartment last night with nothing to show for it today? Shaking her head, she started up the stairs, taking the first few flights with a speed like no other, but soon she ran out of steam, and every flight after the first five she got slower and slower.

She waved at the girl running down the stairs, a very athletic college girl that lived on the same floor as her. She only knew she was in college from all the 'study parties' she would hold on the weekdays. This morning she was dressed to the nines in Nike gear, heading out for a morning job. How could one jog through a crowd of people? Wouldn't it be more convenient to just jog in place in your own apartment?

Eventually, though, Vanessa reached her door, unlocking it with the key she carried. She dropped her bags by the front door, seeing the dead body image flash through her mind once more. An Asian man, older in age, based on the wrinkles that surrounded his lifeless eyes. His hair was dark, matted with blood from what appeared to be a gunshot wound to the head. She didn't even own a gun. He wore all-black clothes like someone that was trying to break in, but that didn't make any sense either. He looked like an honest man that would have a perfectly good job to support his family.

But it was all a lie. None of it had really happened last night. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was convinced there had been a dead body in her apartment, but her logic kicked in, reminding her it wasn't possible. Just in case, though, she stepped carefully around where the crime scene was, trying her best not to disrupt anything that could have been there. Maybe a nap would do her some good? Maybe some food to help the caffeine flow through her body better? Vanessa hadn't realized how hollow her stomach felt, curling at the thought of eating. She'd allowed herself to get too hungry. She'd need a snack.

Vanessa fumbled to her kitchen, cursing herself for how disorganized all of her food was. The freezer was packed full, making it difficult to see what was actually in there. The fridge, on the other hand, was empty, nothing but a bunch of old soda she never finished and a random bag of dried out carrots.

She opted for some pizza rolls, grabbing the bag from the front of the packed freezer. In Vanessa's dream house, she'd have a larger fridge, at least something that had more space to store all of her delicious frozen items. But that just wasn't possible in New York.

The microwave whirs in the background while Vanessa prepares herself some chamomile tea. She wanted something to calm her nerves. Both the food and drink were ready at the same time, so she gathered her plates and strolled through the apartment to the living room. A small seating chair sat next to a large window. She opted to sit there, watching the skyline as she ate her food.

But it didn't take her long to settle enough to drift off. Her body shifting into the chair, melting to become one with the curves, her pizza rolls mostly gone, the mug of tea empty in her hand. Before Vanessa could do anything about it, she was sound asleep, soft little snoring noises dancing through the air.