Author : David Atos

He landed his ship on her front yard. The spare key was still underneath the ceramic frog, so he let himself inside.

The living room looked right. Their vacation pictures were hanging on the wall: the two of them on the beach in Maui, in front of their rented chalet in the Alps, and his favourite – her asleep in a hammock, a gentle smile of contentment on her face.

It was when he moved on to the bedroom that he began to get worried. The bed was too neat; it hadn’t been slept in for days. There was no sign of the customary pile of dirty laundry in the corner. The array of lotions and creams was missing from her bedside table.

The fridge in the kitchen contained the half-eaten remains of several tell-tale casseroles.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to his ship and plotted a course to the cemetery where they buried her last week. He found her grave under the big oak tree, fresh earth piled on top of it. The bouquet of tulips that had been left there was just starting to wilt.

With a look of resolve in his eyes, he returned to his ship. The engines spun up and he winked out of existence.

In an infinite number of parallel universes, he would find her again.

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