After the quiet breakfast, I retreated to the study where our shared computer sat. It was a second-hand device, a little slow on some days but reliable enough for our needs. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitant, before I typed in the password and pulled up the calendar application.
Scrolling through the past months, I searched for any mention of Alex. The name had appeared before, sporadically, on days I vaguely recalled being told about a work meeting or a late return home. But, each entry was vague, lacking detail. It was the digital equivalent of a whisper.
The phone buzzed next to the keyboard, drawing my attention away from the screen. It was a reminder from the pharmacy about my aging father’s medication, a regular errand that had become part of our family rhythm. I noted the time, planning to stop by after lunch.
Before leaving, I printed out a list of the calendar entries, highlighting each instance where Alex’s name appeared. It was a thin thread, but one I intended to follow.
The drive to the pharmacy was uneventful, the car filled with the familiar sounds of the city waking up. The streets were a blur of motion and color, a backdrop to my thoughts. Pulling into the parking lot, I took a moment to steady myself, the list of dates and times crumpled in my pocket like a secret yet to be revealed.
Inside, the pharmacist greeted me with a practiced smile, her hands deftly pulling the prescribed bottles from the shelf. “Here for Mr. Thompson’s refill?” she asked, her voice breaking the spell of my preoccupation.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied, accepting the bag and signing the receipt with a flourish.
As I turned to leave, I caught sight of the clock above the counter, its hands pointing to 11:15 AM, a reminder that the day was slipping by faster than I had anticipated.
Back at home, I found my spouse in the garden, tending to the late summer blooms. It was a peaceful scene, one that belied the turbulence I felt. I paused at the window, watching, wondering how to bring up the topic again without revealing my growing suspicion.
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