not to ask

Why did water keeping coming back to Sid's mind. He was standing there at the toilet watching water flush down the commode.

What did that mean? He thought of a tornado then. No, his aunt wasn't in one. Perhaps she was flushed into the river.

He blinked. Thinking where he was then at the museum.

Nothing was coming to him. He was waiting to see if someone from the family showed up at his Great Aunt's. None had yet.

He really needed to get back there and study the photos more intensely. Why hadn't he?

It was turning out to be a disconcerting day. Nothing felt right. And yet he moved on. Mopped the floor of the break room, the bathrooms. Honestly, they hardly let him on the floor at all. It was as if he had to be behind the scenes. But the museum wasn't a play. And why was he even thinking about plays.

If that weren't enough, he was still consumed with the Scarlett mishap. Calling Violet. Scarlett. Her sister's name was Scarlett. Was that who he meant?

He crumbled to the floor in the bathroom. Honestly, he wanted to pull his hair out. He wanted to know what had really happened. With his memories. His great Aunt. Had he had anything to do with it?

He hoped not. He hoped not. The only comfort he could find was counting the black tiles nonstop.