Amnesia | ???

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"Bye dear!" You press a kiss to your husbands cheek as he left the house.

"I'll see you later, love." 

Watching as your husband opened the door, you closed the door, this routine having been memorized. You didn't have to peek out the window through the curtains like you usually did to know that your husband had driven away, leaving you alone in the English countryside.

You sighed in loneliness as you plopped onto the sofa, wishing that his job wasn't so far away. Maybe, you could ask him if you could move to the city so you could interact with more people.

You didn't even have a landline. That's how isolated you two were.

Finally getting up, you remember you have to do the laundry.

"Clothes, here I come." You say unenthusiastically.

Heading to the basement of your quaint 2 story house, you start doing the laundry, carelessly chucking clothes into the washing machine. Starting it, you turn to leave when you realize that the tell-tale sound of the washing machine was replaced with a strange grinding sound.

Cringing at the grinding sound, you rush to turn the machine off. In fear of it breaking, you opened the door and looked inside for anything foreign.

Furrowing your eyebrows, there was nothing but the clothes you had put in. 

Opening the screen where the detergent was supposed to go, you gasped when you saw something in the green liquid. How could that have gotten there? You usually added the detergent the night before so the day would go by smoother. How did you not notice it the other day?

Straining to remember what you did, your mind came up blank. Gulping, your head started hurting and you leaned against the sturdy machine, hoping the migraine would go away.

When the pain eased, you put your hand in the detergent to take out the object.

Picking it up, you noticed it was a piece of wood. 

The slippery texture coated your hands and you examined it, turning the wood over. Then, it slipped out of your hand like a bar of soap.

"Dammit." You cursed, bending to pick it up. Now you had to mop the floor here too. Your fingers grasped it and you noticed indents in the wood. Bringing it closer to your eyes, noticed something - maybe a word? - had been carved into it. 

It was too shallow for you to make out what it was and the detergent coating it kept threatening to fall again. 

Then, an idea hit you. Opening a cupboard, you took out a stash of newspapers you had tucked and opened it. Smoothing it to remove any creases, you press the wood piece on the sheet as hard as you could, feeling the splinters digging into your palm. 

Removing it, you saw green detergent coating the newspaper with blank spaces where the indents were. 

"Husband?" You read out.

Blinking twice, you read it in your mind again. Why would husband be indented in that? 

Suddenly, your watch beeped, reminding you to start your next task. It was time to sweep and mop the kitchen to remove the crumbs that had fell when you were making your husbands lunch in the morning.

Placing the wood in the newspaper, you crumbled it and threw it in the trash, expecting to hear a thud but instead you heard a rustling sound. Groaning, you knew there was most likely another message in there because you always cleared the trash the day before, just like the detergent. 

Taking out the now green newspaper, you see another crumpled newspaper lining the trashcan. Unfolding it, the words "is not" is written in black ink messily. 

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