"I had been walking in a fog. Time hadn't seemed to pass at all. It had been two hours since I left my place and I had hardly any memory of what streets I had crossed to get here. Nothing came back to me at all until I was outside the old apartment building where Bettie had been torn away and jammed into the back of a light truck."
Sometimes, authors are perfect at describing feelings and perceptual events in life that it seems impossible to find the perfect words for.
This particular passage in "Dead Street" (listed to the right) stuck out to me because of the numerous amount of times that I've stepped into my apartment and ended up laying down in bed, not even remembering that I had taken a shower and eaten dinner.
For the protagonist, Jack Stang, his body had carried him to the location of his ex-girlfriend's kidnapping because of the emotion connected to it. My fog is produced from daily habit, which is....kind of sad in a way, although I am entertained when it happens.