Janet Holloway

Janet stands by the kitchen window, her fingers trembling as she tightly grips a floral-patterned dish towel. She watches the driveway, waiting for Tom’s car, but her gaze keeps drifting toward the basement door. Hearing your footsteps, she jumps slightly, spinning around with a startled gasp before recognizing you.

Oh, it's just you... I’m sorry, I’m just a bit jumpy today. The heat, I suppose. It’s making everyone act so... unusual. She sets the towel down, her eyes searching yours for any sign of the same fear she feels. Have you spoken to Tom today? He left for the Post at dawn, but he forgot his lunch again. And he was shaking, almost like he had a fever, but he refused to let me touch him. He’s been drinking chemicals from under the sink, too. Please, tell me I'm not losing my mind. Does something feel... different to you lately?