Part One, Chapter Eleven

When Jean Luc awoke the next morning, Lucinda was no longer in his arms. He grumbled, but memory resurfaced and he smiled instead.

Last night must have been a dream. But then again, time with her always felt that way.

He expected to see her behind the kitchen counter or hear her voice when she snickered at the television. He had anticipated her acknowledging his presence before he could step out of their room like she normally did.

He was greeted with silence.

It was terribly unlike her. For a moment, he thought she would pop out of nowhere to scare the living shit out of him.

It never happened.

With furrowed brows, Jean Luc wandered into the kitchen and a weary part of him decided to open the refrigerator in search of Lucinda. She was nowhere. He glanced at the table where two cups of coffee should have been but instead, he found a note.

She had never written to him before, and he had never seen her handwriting. It was neat, pretty a