He had Gone

He had gone.

She sensed something as soon as she walked into the house: a hollowness, an emptiness; the absence of something, of a living person.

As she dashed to room after room, she not only found him gone, but all his stuff had gone too.

His CDs, DVDs and a handful of framed photos he’d taken were gone from one room. The bookshelves showed gaps where his books had once sat. His half of the wardrobe was empty and the shelf he used in the bathroom had only a ring where his shaving foam tin had stood.

Back in the bedroom, wondering what she was going to do as she stood by the half-empty wardrobe, Karen stared at the bed, thinking how big it looked and how cold it would seem. Especially in the mornings, when she rolled over to lie in the warm he left behind as he got up.

In the kitchen, his favourite mug had gone and so had his jar of marmalade.

‘No great loss,’ Karen had never liked marmalade, but whether she was talking to herself about the lack of marmalade, or the apparent lack of Jeff in her life from now on, she was not sure.

In her study, Karen upended the vase over her waiting palm until the small key fell from it. She walked over to the desk, unlocked and pulled open the drawer. It was still there.

She took it from the drawer, reassured by its solid heft. She checked it was loaded. She dropped it into her handbag, along with the box of bullets for it. She took one look around her study and turned for the door.

‘Don’t worry, Jeff. I’m coming for you,’ she said, picking up her bag, feeling the reassuring weight of the gun in it as she slung the bag’s long handle over her should and fished out her car keys from its side-pocket.