Something was stuck in Creighton’s teeth. He attempted to move it out with his tongue, but wound up biting himself. He moved on to hoping a fingernail would do the trick.
Quickly his mind wandered to thinking of what would be for dinner. Colors and shapes moved by him in a blur, but they made little sense. He felt a thumping bass against his legs, but heard no music. His mind was miles away.
He blinked twice and realized he had parked. He removed his hands from the steering wheel and looked around.
“When did I get home?” He asked.