The morning arrived shrouded in fog, the cabin wrapped in a blanket of white mist that clung to the windows like breath. I woke to silence so heavy it pressed against my skin. Daniel was gone from the bed. His absence filled the room more than his presence ever could.
For a moment, I lay still, my heart beating too fast, my ears straining for any sound—footsteps, movement, his voice. Nothing.
Then I saw the note on the nightstand.
Went for firewood. Stay inside.
The handwriting was calm, neat, deliberate. The same hand that had written Tomorrow.
I rose quickly, pulling on a sweater. The cabin felt colder this morning, the fire nothing but ash in the grate. I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and wandered to the kitchen, trying to ignore the gnawing unease in my chest.
Coffee. I
