“something’s burning” she said, her nose turned up at the end. “check the oven.” “there’s nothing cooking,” he replied “you’re always doing this.” “doing what?” thick silence. it all started the day she couldn’t find her way to work. nothing looked the same anymore. two yellow lines became three and the oaks in their fields seemed to move closer around every bend in the road. her boss called five times before she had the courage to tell her she was lost. “what on earth is wrong? this isn’t like you.” “i’ve had a lot on my mind. i must be more stressed than i thought. i am so sorry. this won’t happen again.” “take the day off, have a drink. or something.” or something. shaking, she punched her home address into her gps. at first it was easy to hide, paying cash to avoid having to admit she’d forgotten the pin to her debit card again, diligently marking everything in the small calendar she carried in her pocket, names, birthdays, phone numbers. she scattered post it notes everywhere. put gas in the car. you have a husband. eat. the dog food is in the blue trash can. but when she couldn’t remember to do that anymore even her own hands looked unfamiliar. like claws. and the burning smell would never leave her. every day or two she’d forget to remember not to notice it out loud. “i’m sorry” she said. not knowing how long she’d been closing her eyes, “i think something is really wrong.” she counted to thirty waiting for his response, but when she opened her eyes, she was alone.