She used to envy his ability to shut down like a robot who’d had its power pack removed, like the one in the old Lost in Space TV show. And unlike her, he slept like a beatific child, curled in a semifetal position, hands tucked under his head and just the trace of a smile on his lips.

Sure, she could nod off at the drop of a hat, but her sleep was a combination of narcotics and her immune system wearing her down to a nub, even if she’d done nothing more than sit up during the day.

And of course, now that he was asleep, she was wide awake.

Worse, it was one of those nights when death seemed so close, she was afraid to close her eyes. A big part of her knew it was irrational, but she was still tethered to those times in the past when the possibility of never waking up again was a reality. Experience had taught her that no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake the feeling. All she could do was stay awake and ride it out until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

It was a bona fide bad feels night. Sitting up in the bed, she peered into the corners of the room, expecting to spot her shadowy voyeur.

Kate’s hands twisted the covers.

Something huffed in the dark.

Buttons lay by her feet, unmoving.

She quickly fumbled for the remote, turned on the TV and found a channel that played shows from the seventies. Light. She needed light in the room, even if it was flickering images of Mannix.

Kate reached across the sheets and laid her hand on Andrew’s back, feeling the gentle rhythm of his slumber. She’d scared herself and wanted him to be awake with her, assuring her that there was no shadow in the room, no wraith waiting for her to let her guard down.

Let him sleep, she thought. Put your big-girl panties on and deal with it. You’re freaking yourself out like a big dummy.

Mannix gave way to Hawaii Five-O, then Hazel and The Flying Nun. She was bored and bleary-eyed, but the bad feels wouldn’t leave her.

Sleep didn’t reclaim her until dawn. By the time she awoke, Andrew was long gone.

Chapter Two

Buttons stood with his front paws on the front of the washing machine, sniffing at the detergent. Kate closed the lid and leaned against it, petting the dog. She’d opened the blinds today, low gray clouds promising rain in the early afternoon. A mail truck ambled down the empty street. There weren’t many stay-at-home moms or retirees in their neighborhood. By nine a.m. on weekdays, Kate pretty much had the entire street to herself.

Which was no comfort.

Kate’s tablet chirped. It was time to change her pain patch.

“Come on, But-But.”