Timothy arched an eyebrow, staring irritably at the razor in his hand.

"Whatever. I'll just make do."

After Henry got up, father and son sat down together for breakfast.

Henry had barely tasted his chicken noodle soup before he grimaced and called out, "Mom, did you put too much salt in this?"

No answer.

He tried again, a little louder. "Mom?"

Timothy replied calmly, "Stop calling, your mom isn't home."

Immediately, Henry tapped at his smartwatch, trying to call Jessica, but her phone was switched off.

Lowering his voice, Henry said, "Dad, do you think Mom's upset and ran away?"

"She didn't."

With both him and their son at home, Timothy was certain Jessica wouldn't just leave.

"Good. I still think Mom's breakfasts taste better, though."

Neither of them really enjoyed the meal that morning; it just didn't compare to what they were used to.

"Dad, last night Mom made Miss Sheila so mad she left. Is she coming to see me today?"

"She twisted her ankle and is in the hospital. She probably won't be able to visit today."

"Oh no, Miss Sheila hurt her foot? That must really hurt.

firm. "No.

push further, and mumbled, "Can I go see Miss Sheila

"That's fine."

chair, ran over, and flung his arms around Timothy, standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his

up early,

ruffled Henry's hair and stood up, personally taking

came into the master bedroom with her cleaning supplies. Normally, Mrs. Williams took care of the room herself, so it was

window to let in

immaculate, she still

the wind

diagnosis letter was pushed even further

had returned to her

time she'd tidied up the house, the sun

wanting nothing more than a quiet,

was the liver cancer, or maybe it was just the relief of having nothing to worry about for once, but she

her phone back

it chimed nonstop with

calls, some from Timothy,

was

she'd have called

she just

had transferred her two

He needed her out of the way

the morning, one from a couple

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