Everything was wrong. I didn't want to be Thomas Tinsley. He looked like a dope. It took effort not to snatch the driver's license back and toss the whole wallet into the woods.

Into the woods.

That thought brought images, feelings, and sounds. Leaves, …

I reread the unfamiliar name slowly. “Thomas Tinsley.” Repeating it three more times, accenting it differently, trying to find a cadence that sounded familiar. It never did. The face next to the name looked even less so if that was possible. Tan-ish skin.…

I felt around the sides of my neck. She was right. The skin there was sore, tender to the touch. My suspicion of her seemed justified and came flooding back. I was choked recently and she finds me, leash in hand? I don't know if it was guilt or what that …