Alison fried the eggs while Cathy made the toast.

​     Abby set the table.

     They sat down to their food, and Abby began to cry.

     Skip.

​     Her only son. 

     "Don't cry, Mom," Alison said. "You'll make me cry."

     Abby pointed to the fourth kitchen chair at the table, now empty. 

     "That's where he'd sit," she said. "I almost asked you to fry up some bacon because he never liked eggs without...I'm sorry." 

     She continued to sob. 

     Alison and Cathy looked at their eggs with frowns they could not possibly remove from their faces, frowns that twisted into grimaces as they, too, sobbed. No more Skip corny jokes. No more Skip playing his endless video games. No more brother.   

     Abby pulled a box of tissues off the kitchen counter. They'd be needing them. She pulled a plastic garbage container out from underneath the sink. They'd probably be needing that, too.

     They sat there for the longest time, wiping their faces with tissue while sobbing. 

​     Then, Abby abruptly stopped. 

     "Wait a minute," she said. "Has anyone looked in Skip's room? I mean, we're here. Maybe..."

     Carrying their plates, the three of them ran for Skip's bedroom.

     It was the one closest to the door leading to the basement.

​     They got there. 

     Abby's jaw dropped.

     They saw, not the door to Skip's bedroom, but a blank wall.

     It was like Skip's bedroom, even Skip himself, had never existed.

     Cathy looked at the basement door. 

     "Gramps," she said. 

CONTINUE