From the BeginningMature

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He should have known something was wrong the day she stopped pointing out unicorn shapes in the clouds. He should have known something was wrong from the time she pulled away from a hug instead of instigating one. He should have known that the curve of her lips when she smiled had gone from genuine to pained. He should have known.

Sometimes the things that are obvious even to the most casual outside observers are completely invisible to those who are facing them up close and personal.

She liked corners, he knew that. He knew that her insecurities drove her into corners and caused her to sit there for hours on end, sometimes humming soothingly to herself, sometimes sitting silently, staring blankly at the wall as if she believed it would move away if she took her eyes off of it for a second.

Not everything happens for a reason. He used to think that. But when something so inexplicable as that occurred, he had to stop believing.

It wasn't an ordinary day. Many people claimed that it was, but he knew from the moment he lifted his head off the pillow that something about that day was entirely different from any other day he had ever lived. The air smelled different, like cherries, instead of laundry detergent and yesterday's pizza leftovers under the bed. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly until he became accustomed to the sunlight streaming through the ratty brown curtains hanging haphazardly over the windowpane that should have been replaced last winter when he had accidentally hit a baseball through it from the front yard. The cherry smell was irritating his nostrils, but he ignored it as he rolled over in the double bed, and attempted to wrap his arms around someone who wasn't there. Curious, he opened his eyes again despite the light, and checked the clock. It was early; too early for her to be up. Especially after last night, when she had been so drunk she could hardly make it up the stairs to the bedroom. He wished she didn't drink. The countless times he had dumped her "secret" alcohol stashes down the sink, only to find them replenished in new hiding spots was innumerable. He looked around for signs that she had left the house, but her bag, her jacket, and her favorite shoes were all present in the room. Listening for the sound of the shower, he approached the bathroom door, and tapped gently. It gave way without effort and he stepped into the empty room, slightly baffled by it's pristine condition. Had she been cleaning that early in the morning?

The cherry smell had gone from being sickeningly sweet to burning. He pulled on some shorts and went downstairs to the kitchen, where much to his bewilderment, a pot of cough syrup sat bubbling over on the stove top. The rest of the kitchen was so clean you could have eaten off of any surface available, save that messy stove. He turned off the burner and moved the pot to the back of the range, still unsure of what it's purpose was in the first place. He turned the fan on on the stove hood in the hopes of clearing some of the pungent odour from the air. He remembered that he still hadn't found her...

The front door was still locked, and she didn't have a key, so she had to be somewhere in the house still.


The End

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