WHEN SARA WOKE THE next morning, sleep clung to her whole body. She rolled over, but Jordan was gone. She sat up and tore back the covers. Thoughts of the movie roiled in her mind. She stumbled to the bedroom door, down the hall, pin-balling from wall to wall, doorway to doorway.
“Jordan?” Her voice came out rasping as if she’d been screaming all night. “Jordan?” Panic gripped her heart and stomach, smashing them together to create one organ—a hear-mach or a stom-art. She searched every room of their small split-level and ended in the kitchen where she shrieked his name.
He wasn’t home. The coffee pot was half empty. She glanced at the clock. Noon? Jordan would be at work, of course. Noon. She hadn’t slept that late in who knew how many years.
Sara grabbed her phone from the kitchen cou
