Lost

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

“Dotty?” John searched room by room for his wife of fifty years. “Dotty where are you?”

I was sleeping too soundly. I never heard her get up. His heart raced and steps quickened as he flipped the lights on in every room in the house. She wasn’t in any of them. What if she went out the back door? I’ll never find her.”

John’s stomach grew more nauseous. “Dotty, please answer me.”

A muffled sound from inside the walk-in-closet drew his attention. He pulled the door open. “Duck and cover,” Dotty whispered from the floor. “Get in and close the door before the bombs hit.” She tugged hard at his pajama pant leg.

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