Yellowing pages lie before her eyes for the viewing, faded writing in a smooth hand. The very substance the small letters were scribed in, even though...time’s grip had begun to lighten them, had a faint shimmer. Most likely the “ink” had been formed from a natural source such as crushed berries for pigment, blended through with ore that was ground into powder. Quite common. The young man kept his place at the hearth, hands extended to the heat. Rhiannon glanced up from her new point of interest. I noticed her doing it, but didn't think anything about it, until this point. For some reason, things did not feel right. Between her recent attitude, and the bits from the phone call, I got curious. I waited until she walked out of the room and then picked up her phone. She had eight speed dial numbers. All of them were family or friends except the last one. I could not figure out why my wife would have the number of a nail salon pre-loaded into her cell phone. I wrote down the number and left. More

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