He walked into piles and piles of cheese cracker boxes.
“What the…”, he said under his breath, his wife was nowhere in sight.
“Lyla!”, he yelled, hoping she was alright. “Please let her be okay,” he repeated as he walked through the house. Everything was in order, except for these darn cheese cracker boxes; they were everywhere. He couldn’t even walk through the rooms without stepping on them, as if he were wading through a low tide.
He came across the office, and there were journals everywhere. Piles and piles of them in all different types of writing. Curious, he began to read some of them.
‘He stared into the mirror, trying to talk himself through the peaceful madness that has been out to sea for too long. He walked back up to the deck to pick up the other bottle to drink. He paused with hesitation. “I better not, I need to stay clear-headed,” he thought. He sat down on the deck, focusing on the next step in the plan. “I’ve got to keep moving forward, I’ll find my way home,” he said.’
“How did she know? That’s word for word what happened,” he struggled with the logic.
He walked further down the hallway to their bedroom and there she was, sleeping on the bed. And in the corner, a hobby horse covered in cracker dust in the middle of a pile of cracker boxes.
He gently woke her up with a nudge to the arm.
“Oh hey, you’re back! Oh how I have missed you!”, she yells in excitement.
“Hey, what’s going on with all those journals in the office? It’s like I was writing every entry myself. How did you know?”, he questioned.
“The hobby horse tells me everything. I feed him cheese crackers and he gives me information about anything I want to know,” she explained.
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