A Singular Witness

The Account

There was a hollow pounding in Toby's chest with each footfall as he jogged down Quinn's street. He stopped by her house on his way home from his run each evening, checking to make sure Alvin was fed and watered. The little bulldog eagerly awaited this routine, shifting his weight from one paw to the other beneath his stocky frame, barking throatily in greeting as Toby approached the fence.

The temperature climbed to triple digits in the afternoon, a clear sign summer was swinging its hammer. The heat had yet to dissipate, even as the sky rolled over, wrapping the sun in a rosy haze as it bowed out of the punishing stance it assumed all day. Toby was wet with sweat, and as he wrapped around the side of the house, he noticed Alvin was not waiting at the fence as usual. The grass was starting to grow into hedgerows that hid the yard from view where the thick little dog usually waited, and it occurred to Toby that the yard was long overdue for a mow.

Toby opened the gate and let himself into the yard. He found Alvin lying in a patch of dirt he had worn down for himself at the back of the house. Alvin's side rose and fell in short rapid motions, and his tongue lay lolling out of his mouth. Toby checked Alvin's bowls, angry that they were empty. It was the first time he'd found the dog without any food or water. He was irritated with himself for not coming earlier in the day, though he'd dropped by evenings every other time as well. He wore the key to the back door of the Moore house on a thin string around his neck. As he unlocked the door he felt an odd sensation on the skin of his lower leg, like it was being rubbed with a sponge soaked in sandy water. Looking down, he realized Alvin had lifted his head and was licking a trickle of sweat from his ankle. He picked up Alvin's water bowl and carried it into the house. It was dark and musty inside. The air smelled stagnant.

"Hampton?" Toby called out loudly.

He waited, but there was no reply. Toby walked over to the faucet, and felt his stomach seize in a furious knot at the sight of the sink's contents. A large metal colander containing several needles sat in the sink. Looking around, Toby saw kettles of water sitting on the stove but no food, not even a litter of crumbs. He filled Alvin's water bowl. Opening the freezer, Toby found several full ice trays and emptied them into the dog's water. When he put the bowl back out on the porch, the dog lapped up his water in desperate slurps. Toby went to the kitchen closet, relieved to find a large bag of dog food that was still half full.

When he finished feeding Alvin, Toby opened the garage and wheeled the lawn mower out. He mowed the front yard, and then finished in the back. By the time he started the back yard, Alvin's dinner began taking effect. The little bulldog ran circles around Toby in a snarling, slobbering frenzy as he tried to fight off the growling mower that dragged Toby all over his yard.

Toby was drenched in sweat by the time he finished mowing. After he put the mower away he went back into the house and walked through rooms that were at once familiar, but seemed strange in their emptiness. There was a nest of grimy sheets Hampton had made on the couch, but otherwise an air of abandonment in the house. Dust floated on shafts of light that were let in at odd angles by cracks in the living room blinds.

Toby pulled a towel from the hall closet and tentatively let himself into the bathroom adjacent to Quinn's bedroom. It was immaculate, save for a very thin film of dust. The thought of Quinn coming home to find her house in its current condition caught Toby in the chest. Toby turned on the water, and stripping off his clothes, climbed in the shower. Hanging his head so that the jet of hot water throbbed against the back of his neck, Toby found himself imagining Quinn showering in the same spot.  This thought was all he was conscious of until the water began to run cold.

When he finished showering, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked into Quinn's bedroom as though he were walking through sand. Everything was in its place. Surveying the bed she made before leaving, he wondered if she had changed the sheets. Pulling back the covers on Quinn's bed he lay down, exhausted. Burying his face in her pillow, he found her lingering scent, comforting almost to the point of pain. He fell asleep in her bed.