Maybe the door had always been open and he just hasn’t been paying attention. She’d offered to make breakfast, so she’d probably comeBrown earlier and gotten started and then realized they were out of something snd had gone out to get it. He shot her a text and let her know to grab orange juice if she hadn’t left the store. It was relatively gloomy out. No light streaming across the kitchen and he stumbled over to click the door shut, tripping on the cat in the process.
Huh, the car was in he driveway. Maybe sh had gone for a run. She’d been threatening to start again once the weather broke. Frost kissed blades of grass outside the kitchen window but the sun was promising to shine. Her shoes were gone. And her jacket. In fact everything was off the rack. Had she gotten up that early? The cat clawed at his attention. His bowl was empty. Strange, she rarely left the house without dropping kibble in his bowl. She knew that he liked to sleep in and the dsmn cat would howl at the bedroom door ifnhe thought he’d been starved long enough.
Something wasn’t right. He flicked lights on in the kitchen and dining nook. Trying to pinpoint the source ofnthe wrong. Things were tidy. Not clean. No, the room wasn’t cleaned. Things were missing. Only one set of keys on the hook. Pictures gone fr the fridge, her coffee mug not on its hook. His brain was foggy and half asleep but something tickled at the back of his neck, in that part of the brain that made fear. She was missing. Not just her, everything about her. It was like a vaccuum had come through and picked up everything that was her. The door was open. The door had been open. It kept screaming at him. The door had been open.