When she drove to the house that she was convinced was hers, Laura felt at odds with the car that was apparently her own, but now she felt more at ease with it, as if it really was her car. Well ... that's because it was ... now. As she drove, she began to feel foolish. She was absolutely sure that that house was hers. She even remembered doing gardening outside of it, but the more she pondered on it, the less real it felt. Almost like she had dreamed of living there or somewhere like that, someday. Or maybe it was just a fantasy of hers - living in a house, with a husband, and a daughter, and a white picket fence. Because her life wasn't like that at all. She had had a crummy life growing up, and while she did have a daughter, she had no husband (not that she really needed or wanted one), and she lived in an apartment on the south side of town. The address in her mind suddenly made more sense. Yes, the Clover Ridge Apartment Complex. That was on Morgan Street. That was where she was headed. But ... those apartments were really run down. And didn't that neighborhood have a high crime rate? Maybe. But nonetheless, it was home, and she wanted to get back to it. She needed to surround herself with something familiar.
Moments later, Laura was parking her car, and heading into the apartment building. She instinctively made her way to the second floor and right to her apartment door, as if she had done it a hundred times before. She was about to unlock her door, but froze when she heard a noise coming from within her apartment. She quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside to find ...
