Michael called, “Bye, Hunter.”
“Good-bye.” Hunter closed the door and began swiftly striding home. There were still lots of things he could find to do. He felt nauseous and didn’t quite want to analyze why. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Michael standing at his window, watching. He looked sad. Hunter felt heat rise to his face, shame. “Don’t be stupid,” he whispered, turning back to watch the passage of his feet through the snow.
* * * *
As soon as Hunter opened the kitchen door, he cursed. The burned smell had returned. The room was filled with smoke. Leaving the door open, Hunter dashed inside to open all the windows, trying to fan the smoke out. He switched off the gas underneath the pan on the stove, where something burned beyond recognition smoldered, threatening to burst into flame at any moment.
The kitchen smoke detector screamed, unnerving him even more.