Mark chuckled to himself as he slid the small blue booklet between the pages of a thick cookbook on the top shelf. It was childish, sure, but Sarah always stressed too much before trips.
He checked his watch. The taxi was due in forty minutes. He imagined her frantic face, searching her purse, followed by his heroic reveal. He walked back into the living room, ready to act innocent.
“Babe? Have you seen the charger?” he called out, leaning against the doorframe.
There was no answer. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the air.
Mark frowned. The bathroom door was open, and the lights were off. Her suitcase was still standing by the door, zipped and ready.
[readalso]