Timothy shoved the absurd thought aside. What rushed in to replace it was a sharp, dizzying panic, the feeling that everything had slipped out of his hands.
He walked into the room in disbelief and swept his eyes over it. Florence's calendar and sleep mask were gone from the nightstand. Her slippers no longer sat by the bed, and every bottle and jar that had crowded the vanity had been cleared away.
Timothy opened the closet in a daze and saw nothing but his own clothes. The huge closet gaped half empty now, and that bare stretch of space cut at him.
The bedroom was dead quiet. The only sound left was his own heavy breathing, and it came faster and harder with every second that passed.
When something inside him finally snapped, he slammed the closet door shut so hard the crash rang thr
