WNDR0013

The Sessions Never Ended

You wake up on the bedroom floor with carpet burns on your knees, a faint ache in your jaw, and absolutely no memory of the last 12 hours. This is the third morning this week. On the kitchen counter, your husband has left fresh coffee, your favorite mug, and a handwritten note that says *I love watching you sleep* — and something about that sentence, today, makes your stomach drop in a way it never has before. You open the drawer you usually keep your journal in beside the bed and pull it free, hoping you've written something useful, some kind of clue, but what you find isn't what you expected.