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Hugh put the sandwich down, feeling incredibly sad for chicken that had been born, raised, and fed just to end up between bread for a few minutes of consumption. Hugh was neither a vegetarian nor a vegan, but he saw a microcosm of himself in the wrapped sandwich before him. Hugh closed his eyes and told himself that he wasn't a baby chick on the conveyer belt of life, and that he wouldn't one day become a chicken nugget nor a piece of meat in a sandwich.

Hugh scooped up his sandwich and coffee, politely asked the former porcupine and dragon for space to scoot past their table, and went back to the cashier.

He exchanged his sandwich for a simple vegetable salad.

Hugh entered the fortress and passed the playground on his way to home.

Hugh watched as the children zipped down slides, built sandcastles, kicked the sky on swings, and called out to their parents to witness it all. This scene of children at play reminded Hugh of his childhood and sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted to recollect his childhood with nostalgia and yearning but all he could conjure were sensations bitter and sour.

Father dead and mother absent. Always alone and heart in solitude.

Hugh inhaled a few deep breaths to cleanse his emotions and tried to focus on the supersonic screams of children stampeding behind the playground's fence. The past was the past and he wanted to get home and try to find another doctor to call.

Hugh shook off the negative feelings, rounded the playground and stepped onto the path that led past the flowerbed and to his entranceway.

Walking down the path, Hugh noticed a young girl, about eleven or twelve, sitting alone in the flowerbed. He found it strange that she was here in the flowerbed while all the other children were dashing around the playground. Hugh had also never seen this girl before in the neighborhood. If he had then he would have remembered her because her hair was so black that it devoured the light from the sun.

Hugh considered that she may be a new neighbor in the fortress.

Hugh had found it curious that she was sitting alone in the flowerbed, but as he walked by the flowerbed he could see that she was digging holes in the most unusual manner. Not with a spade, but with her bare hands.

He stopped and watched the girl for a minute and was puzzled by why she hadn't been using a spade, or at least some instrument, to expedite her digging endeavors. He was even more perplexed by the fact that would pause and clean dirt from her nails after every single scoop of soil. Even if she lacked the proper tools at home and were forced to dig by hand, Hugh thought, wouldn't it be more efficient if she cleaned her nails upon finishing – or at least after a dozen or more scoops?

Hugh tore himself from this strange sight, figuring that the little girl had her own logic and reasoning for what she was doing, and headed off towards his entranceway.

He pressed his electronic key to the entrance door and stepped through. He had forgotten about the black-haired girl even before the entrance door closed.

Hugh returned to his apartment and flung himself down on his sofa.

The last two days had not gotten him any closer to understanding his hallucinations, but he was determined to find another doctor. Dr. I's notes had been a spark of hope but were now either flopping through the breeze or being munched on by a sewer rat.

Hugh prayed for the latter.

Laying back on the sofa, Hugh swiped his phone on and tapped straight to his browser. He hovered his forefinger above the keyboard at a loss as to what to search for. His last two encounters with doctors had left him demoralized and with little desire for a repeat performance with another Dr. Carni or Dr. I.

Hugh mulled over alternatives.

He considered searching for a neurologist, but he was set against a return venture to a general practitioner in order to retrieve a reference. He also weighed up searching for a psychologist but the notion of paying outrageous sums of money to lie on a sofa, and talk at the ceiling, didn't sit well with him. In the end, he chose to think outside the box. He decided to plug into the search engine the most ludicrous phrasing that he could conjure. After a quick think, Hugh set himself to typing in the search engine: convalescence for those plagued by media related hallucinations in the modern era.

Hugh wholeheartedly expected the browser to admonish him with an error stating that he shouldn't search with such stupid statements. Instead, the search engine pulled up hundreds of links. Hugh tapped on the first one on the list and up popped a new window.

The banner of the website read the organization's name in big bold letters ‘Office M’ and displayed a tagline that they offered one-to-one consultation in the “mystical, magical, metaphysical and mysterious.”

Impressed by Office M's use of alliteration, Hugh continued to read through the website and came to a list of questions that would determine whether Office M's services were a right fit for him.

Do you have otherworldly experiences? The first question posed to Hugh.

“No, I don't. All my experiences are innerworldly.” Hugh said to himself and scrolled onto the next question.

Do you seek answers to what resides beyond the veil of life? The second question read.

“Also no. I'm too busy and stressed out by what resides on my side of the veil.” Hugh replied.

Do you fear that voodoo, witchcraft, or sorcery is inhibiting your life? The third question read.

Hugh rolled his eyes and didn't answer.

Each question was more ridiculous than the last. They mentioned ghouls, ghosts, vampires, trolls and even elves. Even though High was starting to think that these questions must be a joke, he couldn't bring himself to close out the site. There appeared to be a teether anchoring him to the site and hauling him down the page through the sea of questions all the way to the final one – the one which seemed tailored just for Hugh.

Does the media, news, or television push you towards hallucinations of the peculiar, fantastical, and strange? The final question asked.

Hugh didn't even bother to answer. He swiped down to the bottom of the page, tapped the phone number, and pressed the phone to his ear.

Someone picked up after the first ring. A burly voice, which Hugh thought more fitting for a lumberjack than an office worker, answered the phone.

“What do you want?” The gruff voice demanded.

“Hello. I've visited your website and I would like to make an appointment.” Hugh said.

“Look fella, no need to play games.” The lumberjack said. “We don't have time for that. I don't, Office M doesn't, and neither do you. So, let me ask you once more, what do you want?”

“Maybe you didn't hear me,” Hugh replied, quite sure that he had just answered that very question, “I said that I would like to make app –”

“Or maybe you didn't hear me?” The lumberjack interjected with a quick cut, making Hugh feel like a branch chopped in two. “I'm in no mood to waste time. Tell me plain and simple – what do you want?”

“What I really want is to talk to someone about my hallucinations related to the news.” Hugh said, not believing that the second person to know about his hallucinations was to be a lumberjack over the phone. “Your website said—”