It was a Monday night, exactly one week ago. I was sitting at my desk, just like I am now. I'm not hungry, but I keep dipping my hand into a bag of sunflower seeds I pulled out of the pantry. They're flavored with "Frank's Red Hot" sauce. They're not bad, they're not good. I don't eat sunflower seeds, but I've watched enough episodes of the X-Files to know how Fox Mulder cracks them open and drops the shells all over his wooden floors while he's thinking.

But I don't have wooden floors, I have carpet.