Eliam’s pill bottle was still beside the coffee maker 10 minutes after he kissed me goodbye and left for work. I drove it to his own office, where the receptionist said he’d been on leave all week. But then he texted that work was crazy, so the next morning I followed him right past his normal turn.
Eliam’s pill bottle was sitting beside the coffee maker.
I noticed it about ten minutes after he left.
It wasn’t unusual for him to forget something in the morning. His keys had spent one memorable Tuesday in the refrigerator because he’d been carrying groceries when his phone rang.
IT WASN’T UNUSUAL FOR HIM TO FORGET SOMETHING IN THE MORNING.
That morning had been ordinary.
Shower.
Coffee.
Tie.
Laptop.
He kissed me goodbye near the front door.
“Meeting from hell at nine.”
“Have fun,” I said.
“I’d rather reorganize the garage.”
Then he left.
