I placed the phone on the table with more force than necessary, the dull thud echoing through the quiet house. I told myself I was about to write—told myself that this was the perfect moment to work on a new story for the week’s journal. The words should have come easily by now. They always did when my mind was calm. But today, my thoughts refused to line up into anything meaningful.
Nothing came.
I stared at the blank page on my laptop screen for a long moment before closing it altogether. My brain felt heavy, clogged with thoughts that refused to become sentences. The house was too quiet. Too still. As though it was waiting for something—or someone—to be discovered.
I leaned back in the chair and let my gaze wander.
That was when my eyes landed on the bedroom.
The same bedroom.
The
