I pulled myself up, still using the kitchen worktop as support, and glanced down automatically at where my watch used to be, making a mental note to ask someone where my wedding ring and watch had disappeared to. I looked out of the window and noticed how light it was and guessed I must have cried myself to sleep on the kitchen floor. Classy. It hit me then that I hadn’t actually explored ‘my home’ as Timothy had called it. There were only two other doors leading from the sitting room, I opened the first and was greeted with a large bedroom consisting of a double bed and literally everything floral. It even had an odd florally smell which made me feel like I was standing in the middle of a giant, sickly-sweet, potpourri dish. I could never stand potpourri; my mother used to have a glass bo
