Knocking on the door, I heard nothing but an echo of empty rooms. No sound within. No television blaring against hard-of-hearing ears. No clack of a walker across the floor. Where was he?

I jiggled the doorknob. Locked. Glancing around me, the place looked abandoned. While well-kept, the grass was yellow and dead, the earth dusty dry. The handmade Adirondack chair that had sat in the same corner of the porch for over a decade was gone. From the state of things, it looked like no one had been home in ages.

Lawn debris crunched underfoot as I headed to the living room window and pressed my hand against the glass, peering inside. The hardwood floors were bare. The outdated furniture gone.

I had been worried before. I was petrified now.

Never had he disappeared like this. And certainly not without telling me. I needed answers, and I wouldn’t find them here. My brain buzzed with questions. The only thing I could do now was head home.

Unless…there was one thing I could try.

I rounded the corner of the house heading straight for the back door. I stretched on tiptoes, feeling my way across the alligatored doorframe, through grime, bits of leaves, and dead insects—at least I hoped they were dead—until my fingertip touched cold metal.

The house key he had forgotten about. I slid the key into the lock, twisted, heard the welcoming click. The door swung open on a warm breeze. I pushed the light switch up with the heel of my hand, but nothing happened. Had his electricity been turned off? That’s when I noticed the utter absence of sound. No purring appliances. No hissing vents.

“Hello?”

My voice helloed back at me. There wasn’t a scrap of paper or a ball of dust anywhere, only a tiny cosmos of particles dancing in patches of sunlight pouring in through the bare windows. None of this made sense. My thoughts hit trench bottom as confusion and fear mixed and mingled. This house had always been Fourth of July with colorful banter and explosive laughter. Now it was funeral silent. Where had it all gone?

As mid-morning sun striped across my face, I knew it was time to go. Cody was probably already wondering…worrying…panicking over where I was. By the time I got home, Cody had passed all three stages straight into anger.

“Care to explain where you’ve been all morning?” he yelled as I thought I had slipped through the door undetected.

“I’m sorry, honey. I wanted to run out to visit my dad’s grave, but you were mowing the lawn so I didn’t want to bother you.” So sorry, Dad, to use you like that. It was the only excuse I could think of.