You don't sell life insurance. It sells itself.

Abbey didn’t answer her phone when I called. Our friends hadn’t seen her around. She didn’t respond to any emails or messages I sent. I didn’t want to call her family and worry them in the event her phone had run out of battery. I also wasn’t about to risk an awkward lecture from her mother about how I’d broken her daughters’ heart for the last time. No thanks. I can play the guilt trip came just fine on my own. 

I pulled some jeans and a dirty sweatshirt out of my hamper. The sweatshirt smelled of Abbey's vanilla perfume. I didn’t know if I should put it on, or save it as a reminder of her. The mind is capable of creating some amazing yet painful fantasies. I tried not to think of the words "murder" or "rape" but that's all that came to mind. To my surprise, Sawyer was still in the basket and popped out too. He gave himself a shake and tossed off some of my socks. I grabbed a fresh pair and threw the dirty ones back in the hamper.  I nervously hovered over Sawyer as he slowly gnawed at his breakfast. He moved much slower than he used to. Every bite of his kibble felt like a year to me. His peanut-butter-covered-spoon concoction full of eye and joint medicine seemed like he’d never finish licking away the tasty and medicinal treats. Time was slipping away and I had no idea where Abbey was. I was scared. The longer I waited the more distance she could have put between us. Cops always tell you to stay at home when someone goes missing, but I don’t think a family can honestly sit at home and not do anything. I think it’s worse to sit in a room surrounded my memories of the missing person. At least on the street your body is in motion and put to use. 

As Sawyer smacked his lips and licked his snout, the living room floor began to shake. Plates and cups in the cupboards rattled. My coffee mug crashed to the ground and shattered into several sharp fragments. I leapt into the kitchen doorway and braced myself against the frame. Sawyer scooted between my legs and buried his tail between his legs. What felt like a normal California earthquake lasted longer than any I had experienced before. More and more belongings went crashing to the floor. For the first time that morning, I wasn’t thinking about Abbey, until I watched as a picture of us hanging on a wall snapped free and the glass exploded out of the frame. 

Several moments later, the shaking stopped. The rumbling of ground petered out. Items quieted down as they returned to their stationary positions. As I took a step out of the doorframe a flash of bright, white light filled up the entire apartment. Windows shattered as a gust hot wind filled the room. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. 

Two weeks later I opened my eyes.  I had been knocked to the floor in front of the refrigerator and oven. The apartment smelt of rotten food, spoiled without electricity.  I rubbed my eyes. They felt like sandpaper and I couldn’t seem to get any moisture going behind them. My mouth was just as dry and tasted like the worst kind of bad breath. The ringing in my ears started to quiet down, but head was still throbbing. I reached up my face a little farther and felt the rough touch of dried blood matted down between skin and hair. My arms and legs felt weak. I used all of the energy I had to push myself into a sitting position. I looked to my left and Sawyer was sitting next to me. Relieved to see I was awake, he reached out a paw and gently rested it on my knee. He seemed to be shaken up, but was still alive. I pulled myself to his cabinet door, luckily it was on the bottom. I poured his dry food across the floor and helped scoot the loose bits toward him in a pile. I rested my head against the cabinet. Before I could even think about Abbey, myself or even what had just happened, my eyes were shut and I was fast asleep.