The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, painting the marble counter in streaks of gold. I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup, holding it like an anchor, and stared at the empty chair across from me.
Daniel should have been here by now. Normally, he’d shuffle in, hair rumpled, still half-asleep, muttering about deadlines while I half-listened and poured him a second cup.
But today, the house was silent.
I tried to shake it off, but the unease lingered. Daniel had been strange ever since the accident a month ago. The crash hadn’t been serious just a mild concussion, some bruises but something about him had shifted.
Sometimes he was forgetful, fumbling through conversations like a man lost in his own house. Other times, he was sharper than I’d ever seen him, his gaze
