"Anyone missing anything?" He called as his voice echoed throughout the room. He looked over each piece of furniture, hoping to find something of value, but came up empty handed. He reached down and picked up the tattered photo album he had put on his nightstand the night before, it was dusty and brittle, the kind of thing his father had used to keep photos in. He opened the cover, but none of the photographs were falling to pieces. They all looked as if they were printed just yesterday. He smiled and felt something itching the back of his head. He put the album away and brushed his hand over his head. His fingers felt fine, but before he could speak, his ears picked up a murmur from somewhere. He listened closer for a second. It looked as if someone were talking in another room, but he figured it was just his imagination. No one else was there.
As he slid the sheets up onto his bed, his finger brushed a small notepad that sat on the side of the bed. He picked it up and opened it, the pages were blank.
