Chapter 88

Finally he regained control of himself, and his hysteria ebbed. He looked up toward the sky. “What is wrong with me?”

He got up and sat down at the table, shoving some of the jars aside to make room for his elbows. He tried searching his memory, looking for even a small glimpse of himself canning vegetables, turning the shower back on. But there was nothing there. The events of the morning were clear and in sequence; he could not have done those things.

He put his head to the table and wept.

* * * *

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. Hunter briefly considered taking all the jars outside and smashing them but instead hauled them to the pantry and lined them up on shelves. He didn’t know if he could ever face eating them, though. Who knew what they might be tainted with?