Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
THE MORNING of november 7th, 1996, a mother named betsy dahlia rushes around her living room and kitchen in an attempt to find her car keys. her house smells like toast and an open window filters bird songs into the quiet house. a future betsy dahlia will wish she had paused to cherish the peace of this morning for just one moment, but even if she reimagines each of her actions in her head, it will never change what really happened.
instead of taking in the stillness of the morning, betsy dahlia lifts up a couch cushion and spots her keys lying there. "hey, chris?"
her son is the one making breakfast this morning, hence the smell of burnt toast wafting through the kitchen doorway. "yeah?"
betsy walks into the kitchen and waves her keys in the air. "found 'em!" she goes up behind christopher and presses a kiss to his cheek. "have you seen meg up yet?"
the toaster dings and chris pulls each piece of bread out, dropping them onto a plate before his fingers get burned. "no, not yet. she should be getting out of bed by now, though."
"i'll go check," and betsy goes to do just that; she makes her way back through the living room and down the hallway to where meg's room is. she opens the door, "meg? good mor—" but she stops short, her hand still on the knob as she stares at her daughter's bed. it's still perfectly made from yesterday.
she takes a breath and then hurries back out of the room. "did she come home last night?"
there's a pause as betsy reenters the kitchen and chris turns to look at her. "what?"
"meg. did she come home last night?"
chris blinks. "i— i don't know. i came home late. i had to take a shift for someone else. i figured she'd be okay. i didn't check her room because i didn't think i needed to."
