From across the busy street, David watches Audrey’s blonde head as she weaves through the crowd, as he trails her from a safe distance. She juggles grocery bags to get her key in the lock of her car trunk. The key still sticks.

            Why she’d kept the old BMW is a question often asked. No one could understand how proud her husband had been when he’d bought it for her right out of college. It seemed like such a luxury then. That is only part of the reason why she now keeps it. Her azure eyes rise to flit uneasily around the parking lot. David sees dark circles hanging beneath her eyes, and slips back into the crowd of other unhappy souls.

             Her gaze widens when she catches a glimpse of a dark-haired man walking away on the other side of the street. With tears threatening, she clutches her purse to her, hurries into the car and rushes home.

*                      *                      *

            He treads up the walkway to the front porch. Framing the front porch of the little Craftsman bungalow are white roses and amethyst clematis climb the trellis. Idly he wonders if they smell as sweet as he remembers. Wind chimes sing from the overhang of the roof and he steps over the third step, because it always creaks. Silently, he makes his way to the front picture windows. Hummingbirds zip about the feeder that hangs from the lead glass.

            Inside he finds Audrey sitting on the lone blue couch. She is crying as she cuddles a small bundle of golden fur. Scattered at her feet and across the coffee table are at least a dozen photo albums. She sniffs and dabs at her eyes with a tissue. Hair hangs in her face, and she shoves it behind an ear. He creeps closer to the windowpane to get a better look. Dark roots show at her scalp, her normally bronzed skin seems abnormally pale and she looks thinner. It is obvious that she isn’t taking care of herself. David frowns.

            At that moment, the puppy’s head snaps to the window. It jumps from her arms and charges to the end of the couch to bark out the window. Audrey’s eyes are enormous as she darts to the window. The last of the sun’s light caressing her cheek as she searches the porch and yard. There’s nothing there.

            “Cooper, be quiet,” she softly murmurs as she moves to lock the front door.

            Tormented, she returns to her spot on the couch to look over old pictures from vacations and new photos of when Cooper was picked from his litter. Gazing at the now sleeping puppy at her hip, she realizes his soft brown eyes remind her of someone else’s.

*                      *                      *

            David slips in an open window the next morning after she’d left for work. He passes through the kitchen, and pauses to ponder the dirty dishes piled in the sink. It is so unlike her to leave something like that go. For the last few weeks that he’s been watching her, he’s seen her habits change. He shakes his head and crosses into the living room, where he’d watched her the night before. He isn’t supposed to be here, but he can’t seem to stay away from her. Keeping away forever is an awful long time when you need to see someone.

            The photo albums remain where she’d left them. He glances at the open pages as he passes. She was smiling in many of the pictures. He wants to see her smile, to take her and hold her, but he knows that isn’t possible. He pauses when he sees the picture of her in that white dress hanging over the fireplace. If only he could make her look as happy as she was there.

            He makes his way upstairs and through the rooms. A fine coating of dust covers her computer, as though she hasn’t been at the desk for some time. He moves on to the bedroom. Only one side of the bed has been disturbed. The lavender sheets and duvet are a twisted mass at the foot of the bed. He skims his hand over her pillow and knows from watching her toss at night that her dreams aren’t pleasant ones. Silently, he moves to the window and glances out to where the sleeping puppy lay sprawled in a puddle of sunshine.