I had been gone for 5 days when Rachel went downstairs to pick up a package while I heated water in the kitchen.
A draft through the window extinguished the flame, but I didn't notice.
The doorbell rang. I assumed Rachel had returned and opened the door.
Matthew stood outside.
He wasn't wearing his usual coat, only a black shirt. His clothes carried no trace of perfume or laundry detergent. At least, I assumed they didn't. I could no longer tell.
He was looking at me when his expression suddenly changed.
"Don't move."
He rushed past me into the kitchen, shut off the gas valve, and threw open every window. When he came back, he gripped my shoulders and pulled me into the hallway.
"How long has the gas been leaking?"
"I don't know."
"You can't smell gas. Why are you using the stove
