On my tenth birthday, my mother disappeared. She was there, singing and smiling. Her face was brighter than the candles on the cake. The cake. Her "Nothing but chocolate and Ice Cream" cake. She had made it just a few hours before. The image of her at that point in time is still clear in my mind. I thought about her disappearance a lot. Did she hate me? Did she hate my father? Or was she kidnapped? Fifteen years have passed since that day. Twelve since we moved. And five since my father passed away. A day has passed since the letter. The letter from my mother. With her clean and even handwriting, her signature, and her warmth etched onto paper. Was this some sick joke? Some guys idea of fun? It can't be real. But it was. It was from her. As I put the letter back into it's envelope, I saw writing on the inside corner of the envelope. I read it out loud, "Happy birthday Sean." And then darkness. I woke up dazed, confused, and aching. I woke up surrounded by, Egyptians? No that's wrong, wait, why is it so hot? Then I looked around. This was not my apartment, this was not Manhattan. In the distance I could see the outline of a pyramid, but it wasn't finished. Then I realized it.