The house was dark and still, full of shadows, though a low lamp burned in the hall, enough to give me light by which to see faintly.
The smells in the house lingered familiarly... fried potatoes, floor polish, dryer softener sheets, coffee.
It was so quiet. The cherry wood floor creaked, as it always does, and I stood in the living room, before the great circle rug. His chair was empty. The room was silent and still.
A few steps further and through the open doorway, I saw her lying fast asleep in bed, curled up like a tiny child. Her breathing was loud and heavy.
She was all alone.
I woke up thinking, "Dream noir."
It's amazing how the human brain processes events.