"Isn't that right, Enrik?"

Emma's broad but sweet Kiltish accent brought Enrique back to the present. Enrique turned to look at her and saw a slight look of concern cross her face.

"Ah . . . yes . . . I think so," he replied, still sitting at his desk.

Every time Enrique remembered the dream or heard something about the murders it gave him shivers. He wanted it all to be over. Sometimes he was too afraid to fall asleep or even close his eyes. 

He longed for the passing of this uncanny dimension. Enrique had no idea how or why he had ended up in Terros and it had taken him some time to fully comprehend what had really happened. 

It was lucky for him that Francis the bookseller had believed his runaway story and taken pity on him. Attending class and receiving financial support due to his situation helped Enrique to stay sane. The room he was renting, otherwise known as '304', and the other tenants in the building had also played an important role. He always greeted the tenants he crossed paths with and made sure to chat with the landlady everyday as he left the building. These greetings were the closest thing that Enrique had to a sense of family – small gestures that helped him feel that he wasn't completely alone in this strange world. The landlady was safekeeping a metal box for Enrique with his digital watch and cell phone. He had simply told her that the box contained 'memories of his parents.' 

He had the only key. The landlady had never seen what was inside.