Julian didn't realize I was gone until the next morning.
That day, he returned to the apartment with a fancy jewelry box in his hand.
Everything in the living room looked exactly as it always had. But the mug I used, the fuzzy slippers I wore, and my sketchbook were all gone without a trace.
Half the wardrobe was empty.
The bathroom shelf held only his toiletries now.
He called the hotel first, only to find out I'd already checked out.
Then he dialed my number.
An automated voice told him the number was no longer in service.
My w******p account had been deleted. The HR department at my company confirmed that I'd resigned. All my usual social media accounts had gone completely silent.
Finally, he dug through the trash can by the front door.
At the very bottom lay my apartment key.
