Just bring yourself.
I’ve got tea and a heating pad.”
Chapter 10 — The Hollow House
Shane came home that evening braced for a war zone — smashed glass, slashed furniture, the wreckage of a woman’s rage.
Instead, the door swung open onto quiet.
The leather sofa, the television, the heavy coffee table all sat exactly where he’d left them.
Nothing was broken.
But the living pulse of the place had been surgically removed.
The woven basket under the console that held the batteries and the band-aids and the reading glasses Marlene was always losing — gone.
The ceramic tray where he tossed his keys every night — gone, so his keys clattered onto bare wood.