Author's POV
Anne sat amidst a battlefield of chip crumbs, the half-empty bag a testament to her losing war against job-hunting despair. The television blared a soundtrack to her misery, but her focus was a tight knot of frustration and rejection. Each job listing felt like another punch to the gut – underqualified, overqualified, or simply swallowed by the digital void.
Her gaze drifted towards the silent hallway, a stark reminder of Eric's two-day absence. A strange quiet had settled over the apartment in his wake. No more off-key morning serenades that grated on her nerves, no more rogue cow-patterned socks appearing in the most unexpected places, no more ridiculous wrestling matches that shook the floorboards, no more annoying tugs on her leg when she dared to claim she was busy.
Her eyes flickered back to her phone, lying innocently on the blanket.
She shouldn't.
Every rational fiber of her being screamed against it.
