4

Nora slowed as she neared the house, wishing the fan belt didn’t squeak at low speeds, but there was no need for silence; his truck was gone.

She killed the engine and fumbled for the house key, hurrying for the back door. He was gone, but she didn’t want to bank on how long. She sprinted up to the bedroom and flung wide the closet doors. One small carry-on suitcase, one backpack. Another pair of jeans, a few shirts, her two favorite sweaters, pajamas, random underwear, socks, toiletries, pillow, and her stuffed bear Beau who had always, always been with her.

He had once accused her of loving that stuffed bear more than him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve known him longer,” she said smiling. But he hadn’t smiled back. He really was jealous. And time was still ticking.

Underneath, she must have known for months, maybe years, that she’d have to leave in a hurry. She had a stash of about a thousand in squirreled away tens and twenties, her passport, the title to her car, and some bonds all in the back of her desk drawer. Her most precious notebooks and sketchbooks would fit in her backpack, but she’d have to hope the rest of her stuff could be gotten later, after the divorce papers were filed. She was out of time.