Completely in the Dark

Of course it had to happen early in the morning.

My routine: Up at 7 a.m., coffee on, bathroom. But while switching on the home office lights, I happened to glance at the dining room table.

“Hmm. …That’s dustier than usual,” I thought. Petals had fallen off flowers in a vase. I ran my finger through a fine grayish-white powder on the tabletop. No idea what it was or how it got there.

Seems I’d left the 1978 diary there, too. Odd.

I showered while the coffee brewed. Over the roar of the water I heard—well, at least it sounded like—a throat clearing. I turned off the tap, grabbed a towel and dried off, bending an ear toward the door.

Silence.

After throwing on clothes and pouring some coffee, I saw him sitting at the table, leafing through the diary.

He looked up. “G’mornin’, Muffy.”

“Pop?!”

He…