EPISODE 4: THE HOLLOW DAYS ## CHAPTER 1: TWO MUGS The percolator whistles, a sound that used to mean morning and it now just means another slow cycle of existence. Twelve days since Jacob’s truck crunched gravel onto my driveway, twelve days since I found myself staring at an address in his jacket pocket like it was some kind of forgotten tax form. Dolly stretches out on the corner of the duvet, a long, careful unspooling that makes her seem monumental in the early light. She lifts her head just enough to regard me with those unsettlingly yellow eyes and flicks her tail tip once against the sheet. I scratch behind her ears until she makes a soft, demanding rumble in her chest—a vibration I feel more than hear. I move through my kitchen routine: grinding beans, filling the filter basket, setting the kettle on the back burner. The scent of dark roast rises, bitter and comforting. This is how it goes now; coffee, work, Dolly deciding my life force needs tending in bouts of supreme inertia. I am making two mugs this morning, even though only one full mug should be necessary. The first cup is for me, poured into the chipped blue ceramic mug that has a hairline crack near the handle—the one Shelby says reminded her...