Caged Obsession- Tragic Romance

missing is the two-point-five kids and the golden retriever. I fill a thermos with coffee and snag a banana from the counter-something to fill my deadened stomach. The coffe

I'm too early for the plows. The layer of ice beneath the fresh dusting crunches under my tires as I creep along at a snail's pace. My hands grip the wheel tightly, knuckles white against the cracked vinyl. Every turn feels like a gamble, every patch of black ice a potential death sentence. By the time I reach the gate to the facility, my nerves are frayed. The security booth stands like a sentinel against the bleak, snow-covered landscape, its faded paint peeling in long, jagged strips. Ernie, the guard on duty, pokes his head out of the ancient window as I pull up. His cheeks are flushed red from the cold, his breath forming little puffs of steam in the air. Despite the bushy white eyebrows that give him the appearance of a kindly grandfather, his eyes are anything but warm. His gaze lingers too long, appraising me with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl. Without a word, I hand over my badge, keeping my eyes trained on the frost-covered windshield. The friendly "good morning" I'd planned dies in my throat as I feel his eyes drift to the open V of my jacket, where my uniform bares just enough skin to fuel his wandering thoughts. My jaw tightens, and my fingers curl into fists in my lap. Ernie's ogling is nothing new. It's been part of my routine as much as the snow, the coffee, and the suffocating presence of my husband. But today, something about it feels different. More invasive. More personal. The weight of his gaze stirs something dark and simmering inside me-a flash of anger so intense it takes me by surprise. In my mind, I see myself grabbing him by the collar, slamming his face against the window frame until the glass shatters. The image is so vivid, so visceral, that I have to physically shake my head to dispel it. The spurt of rage shocks me. I've never been violent, never even considered it, and yet... Ernie leans forward with my badge, his bushy eyebrows raised in mock concern. "Whoa there, steady," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're jumpy this morning. Ne