I knew there was something wrong when he stepped through the door.
He wasn’t himself.
There was something in his eyes.
In the way he looked around the room.
Searching for something.
I tried asking him what was wrong but he didn’t answer.
He didn’t even see me.
It was like I wasn’t there.
I wondered what was going on.
Why he wouldn’t tell me.
Why he wouldn’t even look at me.
But he walked out the door just as quickly as he’d come.
And when he came back he was his normal self.
I’ve never dared to ask what had happened that day.
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