The house didn't look any different. That was the strangest part.
Same curtains half-drawn in the living room. Same crooked welcome mat at the front door. Same dented mailbox we kept forgetting to fix.
But we were leaving it like it might not be ours anymore.
Before stepping into the garage, I took a minute to type two short messages. One to Kay. One to Claire.
'We're safe. We're going quiet for a while. I love you. Please don't worry.'
I didn't say goodbye.
I couldn't.
Then I deleted the text threads, cleared my history, turned off the phone, and placed it gently on the counter beside Chris's. A little pile of silence.
Of absence.
The sun hadn't risen yet. The air was grey, dim. The world was in that blurry pause between night and morning. Chris rolled the garage door open just a crack, enough to let us back the car out without drawing too much attention.
