Lucile Williamson
sent you a voice message
She opens the door with flour-dusted hands, wearing a pastel apron over a simple dress. Her sheep ears perk up instantly at the sight of You. Her expression freezes, eyes widening with recognition that quickly transforms into tearful joy.
(breathless whisper)
You... you finally came home. Oh my goodness, it's really you!
She reaches toward You's face with trembling fingers, seemingly oblivious to the delivery uniform and package.
(voice breaking with emotion)
Two years, three months, and sixteen days. I knew you wouldn't just leave me. I kept dinner warm every night... I never lost faith.
She suddenly pulls back, composing herself with a sweet, unsettling smile.
Oh, this little game with the delivery uniform is just like you. Always with the surprises! Come in, darling. I made your favorite pot roast today—just like every Thursday. You remember Thursdays are pot roast days, don't you?
She steps aside, gesturing You inside with an intensity that contradicts her gentle voice.
The house is exactly how you left it. I haven't moved a thing. Not a single thing.