The day was normal until the sun had properly risen. I have always considered schedules rather ephemeral constructs, but still, something felt particularly loose today, even as I stirred from rest, rose quietly, and began brewing my coffee, the same way I had for the past three years. I should have been drowning in familiarity, but instead I felt curiously alone that morning.

I felt altered, as though some visceral glitch had occurred overnight. This hypothesis, subtle but hard to shake, echoed as I made my way to the lab. I sipped my caffeine as I seated myself in front of last night's work, the notes and equations scrawled and difficult to make out. I sighed and closed my eyes to organize my thoughts. I had experienced something interesting at that moment, a sudden and unexplained salvo of stress. Self-created frustration became its own cause of frustration. My thoughts dulled to a subtle, aching rattle.

There was a definite tinkering taking place in my mind, but its presence enabled its ambiguity, masking my attempts of identification. I pounded my desk in resignation, most likely waking my siblings; I always was a sore loser. Now that work had become an impossibility, I moved out of the lab and reclined on the couch, wishing I could untangle my body from my mind.

I awoke to the sound of fist on a surface; not loud or sudden enough to startle me, but just enough to politely jostle me from slumber. Groaning, I rolled over and was greeted with a digital alarm clock. It was too early for Raph, so that leaves only two possibilities. Grinning slightly, I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and reached for my mask. I finalized the knot and hopped off my bed and out the door. Don's coffee greeted my nose, answering the question of noise. Wasn't the lab supposed to be soundproof or something? As if in confirmation, I heard Leo emerge from his room.

"You're up early," he offered, entering as I stirred some eggs with a fork, panglossian notions of omelets in mind.

"Hey, have you seen Donnie?" I offhandedly asked over my shoulder.

"No I haven't, why?" he responded with subtle concern, pouring cereal into his bowl.

I shrugged and resumed cooking.

"I just heard a noise earlier, like a banging or something. That's all."

This seemed to piqué his interest, and he stopped eating for a moment.

"When was this?"

"Like fifteen minutes ago. It woke me up."

He thought for a moment before returning a shrug.

"I'll check on him later. He's probably still miffed about yesterday."

This triggered the floodgates open, memories resurfacing in scintillating clarity. My epiphany must have been evident on my face, making Leo smirk as he dispensed his empty bowl in the sink and started out, clasping my shoulder as he passed.

"He'll be alright, just give it some time. It usually takes him a while to get over things like this. Man, sometimes I think he takes more responsibility for things than I do."

I flashed a smile at his joke, which he returned before leaving. My grin was then overwritten with a look of concern.

I hope Leo's right.