Mr. Whiskers was sprawled across my lap when I noticed something that immediately bothered me. His fur looked… different. Not messy. Not dirty. Just unusually fluffy, as if every hair had been carefully arranged to achieve maximum puffiness. I ran…
Pandora forgetting her phone is about as likely as Mr. Whiskers volunteering for a bath, which is why it immediately caught my attention. I was making breakfast while John Mercer wandered into the kitchen looking like he’d spent the night…
I was making breakfast when I noticed John Mercer looking at the clock. Normally that wouldn’t even register as unusual—people check clocks all the time—but there was something about the way he did it that immediately caught my attention. He…
The first thing I noticed was that Mr. Whiskers had stopped sleeping on his favorite windowsill. For years he’d spent every sunny afternoon stretched across that spot like it was his personal throne, watching the neighborhood with the confidence of…
Pandora had been checking her phone all morning, and the longer I watched her, the more convinced I became that something unusual was happening. Every few minutes it buzzed, she’d glance at the screen, smile to herself, type a quick…
It started with a spoon. I was making my morning coffee when I reached for the sugar and noticed the spoon sitting on the counter instead of resting inside the bowl where it belonged. That wasn’t particularly unusual. John Mercer…
There wasn’t a single thing wrong with the living room, which was precisely what bothered me. Pandora sat comfortably beside me on the couch with a novel resting in her lap, occasionally turning a page without saying a word. Down…
It started with Mr. Whiskers. Not because he did anything dramatic. He didn’t hiss, puff up, or launch himself across the room like he’d seen a ghost. He simply walked away from Pandora. That might not sound particularly unusual, except…
It started with a coffee mug. That’s how all bad ideas seem to start. Pandora left her favorite blue coffee mug in the sink, and for most people that would have been the end of the story. Everybody forgets a…
I’m sitting on the couch, staring at Pandora’s phone where she left it on the coffee table. It isn’t ringing. It isn’t buzzing. It’s just… sitting there. I’m not trying to snoop—honestly. My eyes just happen to land on the…
There are moments when Mr. Whiskers looks less like an orange tabby and more like someone carrying the burden of classified information. This morning was one of those moments. He sat in the middle of the living room, perfectly still,…
John Mercer looked exhausted this morning, and that was the first clue. He shuffled into the kitchen with the unmistakable expression of someone who had spent the night wrestling with either insomnia or an exceptionally difficult crossword puzzle. He opened…
Breakfast should have been simple. I was standing in the kitchen making eggs when I noticed Pandora’s coffee mug sitting on the counter. That was odd. Not alarming odd. Just…odd. Pandora had stopped by yesterday afternoon, and she usually took…
Walking home from the library usually helps me organize my thoughts after an afternoon of studying. Calculus has a way of filling every available corner of my brain, so by the time I reach our apartment building I’m normally ready…
Mr. Whiskers had exactly three jobs in life. First, supervise breakfast. Second, inspect every grocery bag that entered the apartment. Third—and perhaps most importantly—wake me up every morning at precisely the same time by sitting on my chest and staring…
There are two kinds of people in the world. There are people who make sandwiches without thinking about them, and there are people who develop little habits over the years without ever realizing they’ve done so. Until Thursday morning, I…
There are certain things a person comes to expect after living with the same roommate for a long time. John Mercer always rinsed his coffee mug before putting it in the sink, never remembered where he left the television remote,…
Breakfast should never require detective work. Unfortunately, that was exactly where my morning seemed to be heading. I stood in the kitchen staring into the toaster while a second piece of bread slowly transformed from perfectly edible into something that…
I have a habit of noticing things that most people either overlook completely or dismiss without a second thought. Pandora insists that this is because my imagination has a tendency to sprint ahead while everyone else’s politely walks, and she’s…
The mystery began on a quiet Saturday morning with something so ordinary that I almost ignored it. I shuffled into the kitchen still trying to wake up, reached automatically for the coffee container, and frowned the instant I picked it…
