But that was wrong, she realized a moment later. She could identify everything in the room for what it was, but it all lacked familiarity. The clock radio was easy to identify, not because she had seen it before, but because it was like all other clock radios. Staggering to the bed, she slumped down on its edge and laid her head in her hands. She calmed herself, willing her heart to slow and her breathing to settle.
Panic can only make things worse.
The last phrase seemed familiar and brought a small degree of comfort. Rising from her perch on the bed, she began to pace the small space. I'm in a motel room. No answer came. She looked around the room again, this time more carefully.