Just… unsettled.
Because now I am looking not just at a hamster birthday post but at a timestamp.
A marker.
Amonthly return.
And suddenly the early morning accidental phone call from Whitstable last month does not feel like a random trip.
It feels like part of a pattern.
A pattern I somehow missed while being in it.
Sophie says, softer now, “That’s not normal casual hamster management, you know.”
I let out a breath.
“No,” I admit. “No.”
There is a beat.
Then Sophie inhales sharply.
“Oh my God.”
I frown.
“What now?”
“Zoom in.”
“On what?”
“The latest picture. Right-hand side. Behind the cake.”
I squint at the screen.
“Behind the cake is a fruit bowl.”
“No, behind that. There’s something on the sideboard.”
I zoom.
At first it is just blur. Kitchen counter. Tea towel. A dark rectangle half hidden behind a jar.
Then the image sharpens.
And everything in me goes still.
My chair gives a faint creak as I lean closer.
No.
That is—
“Philip?” Sophiesays.
I don’t answer.
