The Day My Five‑Year‑Old Disappeared
Everything had been cleaned so thoroughly that there wasn't a trace left of a child ever having lived here.
My mind was on the edge of collapse. My nerves screamed, every sensation raw and disorienting.
Lately, Chester had been busy and was always in the study late into the night. Our conversations had grown shorter and fewer. Even his attitude toward me had subtly changed.
I knew it had to do with my "condition". He didn't want me disturbing him, so he kept me away from the study as much as possible. I respected that until…
Meow…
A soft, almost plaintive meow cut through the silence. It was Pudding, our five-year-old cat, the same age as Dorothy. We had gotten it the year she was born, and