Home Is Where Dessert Lives

Husband Thomas's wayward interests threaten to cost the best thing to ever happen to him. But a cold slap courtesy of the true truth in this moment made him see the memory was mirage. The most immediate truth was the doorknob being unlatched so it pushed easily open and ushered him into what he wondered was the bedroom he knew or if he'd really crossed into one of those multi-verse dimensions he'd briefly researched. Whatever alternate reality or dimension or nothing of the sort he entered, the single truth was his entry into dimness because Holly had drawn the shades to shield sleepy eyes from the sun about to be a noon sun. He tried not to procrastinate confrontation with pain by lingering near the door to let his nose tell him if he smelled something different or it was just his imagination. Or did he recognize their dressers? If he'd go to the closet would he find his shirts and shoes, or shirts and shoes alien to him?