That should have reassured me, but it didn't.
Over the next few days, the small inconsistencies kept coming.
She stopped putting cinnamon in her coffee, even though she had done it every morning since we met.
She pushed away a plate of mushroom pasta and said, "You know I hate mushrooms."
Alma loved mushrooms.
Once, on our anniversary, she had made me drive 40 minutes because a restaurant had truffle risotto.
Two days later, I came home early and found her standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
Her shirt was pulled down off one shoulder.
She was tracing the outline of the lily-shaped mark with her finger.
She did not notice me.
The look on her face was not confusion.
It was recognition.
I stepped back before she saw me.
That night, Milo refused to sleep in our room.
He lay outside the guest room instead, watching the hallway.
I barely slept.
