Mary opened the front door slowly, her thumb hovering over 911.

She watched aghast at the total chaos inside. Nothing stood in its place. Clothes, cookware, books, and papers piled across overturned tables and smashed chairs. Only a tornado could compete with the wreckage emanating from Ralph.

He spun around, panting. His eyes twitched wildly, framed by dark circles so deep they looked like tattooed rims.

“Stop! Are you nuts? What are you looking for?” Mary screamed.

Ralph stared through her, his voice a hollow whisper.

“My soul,” he answered. “I lost my soul.”