Detective Jameson sat at his cluttered desk, sipping the cold coffee that had been sitting there for hours, and stared blankly at the thick file in front of him. The silence was oppressive, hanging over his office like a heavy fog. The only sound was the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

Just as he was starting to lose focus, Jameson's phone rang, shattering the stillness. "Jameson," he answered, his voice abrupt.

"Hey, boss," his partner, Detective Rodriguez, said. "We got something. A tip from an anonymous source claims to have information about the murders."

Jameson's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair. "What is it?"

"It seems the killer is a former Diamond Club member who was cheated out of a fortune during one of the games. He's been seeking revenge ever since," Rodriguez replied.

Jameson's eyes darted back and forth across the page as he re-read the file, his mind racing with possibilities. He felt a surge of excitement and curiosity, and before he knew it, he was on his feet, racing out of his office.

The two detectives arrived at the suspect's apartment, a crumbling building with a faded sign that read 'Rosedale Arms' in peeling letters. The crumbling facade was a testament to the seediness of the neighborhood. They found the suspect pacing back and forth in his living room, his eyes wild with rage.

"You're him, aren't you?" Jameson accused, his voice firm.

The man nodded, but before he could say anything else, Jameson noticed something odd. The man's eyes seemed to flicker with a mixture of rage and desperation, like embers smoldering beneath a layer of ash.

As Jameson watched, a strange sensation washed over him - it was as if he'd been punched in the gut and then dropped down a deep well. The room began to blur around him, and everything went dark.

When Jameson came to, he was lying in his own bed, surrounded by the familiar shadows of his darkened bedroom. The moonlight streaming through the window cast an eerie glow over everything.

At first, Jameson thought it had all been just a dream - but as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, he realized it wasn't just a dream. Every detail was etched into his memory like a photograph.

And then it hit him - what if it wasn't just a dream? What if it was all just part of some elaborate test or simulation? He thought back to the strange sensation he felt when he woke up - it was like being pulled out of a different reality.

Jameson's mind reeled as he stumbled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to make sense of it all. The truth slowly dawned on him - it wasn't just a dream. It was all just a simulation created by some unknown entity to test his skills as a detective. The murders were never real. The suspects were never real. None of it was real.

Jameson felt like he'd been punched in the gut again. He stumbled back to bed and collapsed onto the pillow, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

As he lay there, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this simulation was just one small part of something much bigger - something that would continue to unfold in ways he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

And with that thought, Jameson fell asleep once more, unsure what lay ahead in this strange new world.

Paige leitter

@Lucid

Pennsylvania

Paige leitter has not written a story.