Manifest Destiny

He woke the next morning to find her gone.

In a panic, Sean leapt out of the bed and yelled her name. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of struggle, but nothing was out of place. He yelled her name again, sagging with relief when he heard a “Yo!” from the kitchen.

Dolly was standing at the stove, dressed in one of his T-shirts and boxer shorts, flipping pancakes on the griddle. There was a stack of flapjacks piled high on the counter beside her, maple syrup warming on a hot pad next to them. He felt his belly rumble at the smell, marveling at Dolly’s cheeky grin as she poked at the griddle. Her bandages were all gone, each surgical site no more than a pale pink streak against her skin. It even looked like her fingernails and toenails had grown back, this time with no tracers. From last night to this, he thought. My mind is reeling.

“You scared me,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“What, you thought I’d run out on you?”

“That or a team of men had spirited you away.”