It happens when I’m driving. Or when I’m taking a break from work. Or in the split second when I’m waking up.
It happens a dozen times a day. Maybe more.
It’s a sudden realization that something is wrong — but I can’t remember what it is. That jolt makes me feel panic, as though there’s some terrible unspoken thing that threatens me — something I just can’t put my finger on. Something I can’t quite pull from my foggy memory.
The panic is physical. It does something in the center of my chest.
My heart starts to pound. In a brief instant, I become something like a caged animal ready to strike out at danger. But what is the danger? What is the threat? Why can’t I see it? What can’t I remember?

Do I oppose rulers because I hate rulers — or because I hate rules?
As world descends into madness, back away and guard your heart
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Tommy, who needs a home before winter
UPDATE: No, I really haven’t died; I’ve just lost my sense of purpose
For an American church, the Fourth of July should be just another day
Memory Lane is seductive when
EU says it might block people from getting their own money from banks