[ WP ] You kiss your girlfriend of 10 years goodnight.You return in the morning to find her house completely abandoned , boarded up , with no trace of your girlfriend or her family .

`` Goodnight,'' I said, leaning into her with my hands already around her waist. `` I love you.'' 
 I kissed her passionately, loving the taste of her soft lips pressed agianst mine, they tasted like strawberries thanks to her lipstick, and she knew I liked it. She knew everything about me, that's what ten years together will do to a couple, but I was n't complaining. It just made me love her more. 
 She pulled back after a few hot moments. `` Goodnight, Jas.'' she said, smiling and biting her lip. `` I'll see you tomorrow?'' 
 `` You do n't want me to come in?'' I asked, pushing my luck a little further. 
 She looked at the door, thinking about it as she bit into her lip a little harder. I'd teased her about how it made her look kind of like a bunny rabbit, but I would n't have changed it about her, it was one of the things I loved most. `` Not tonight,'' she finally said, seeming as disappointed in her answer as I was. 
 `` Not interested anymore?'' I asked, gesturing to myself. 
 She snorted. `` Early morning,'' she told me, `` and we have my grandmother staying over... it'd be weird.'' 
 `` I'm sure she's heard worse,'' I said, grinning as I waggled my eyebrows meaningfully. `` Your dad was born, after all.'' 
 She stifled a laugh at that. `` Gross!'' she declared, pushing me away playfully. `` Go home, I'll see you tomorrow.'' 
 `` Three o'clock, right?'' I asked, already sure of it. 
 She nodded. `` Do n't be late, okay? It's important.'' 
 `` You know me,'' I said with a grin, `` always on time!'' 
 She rolled her eyes. `` Just be here.'' 
 `` Fine, fine,'' I promised, stepping back away from her door. `` I'll be here.'' 
 She watched me get in my car, but as usual I made sure she was inside before I drove off. I did n't ever want to let anything happen to her. 
 
 I was there at 3:15pm. Not late by my standards, although I will admit not exactly on time. I knew something was wrong as soon as it hit 3:00 and I was stuck in traffic, and when I finally got there my eyes confirmed it. She was gone. 
 I do n't mean it in the'I'd just missed her' kind of way, it was like driving up to a different house with the same address. This one had the same white paint and blue-tiled roof, but the windows had been boarded up and it did n't look fresh. The lawn had somehow grown by a full foot since the previous night and there were weeds overgrowing it everywhere. I had to double check to make sure I had the right place. I did. 
 I was immediately gripped by panic, jumping out of my car and leaving the door wide open - something I would never normally do. I ran to the door and pounded on it, hearing the echo of an empty house behind. I looked through dirty broken windows and saw it. Empty, vacant, abandoned. 
 I went back to my car, sitting back down into the driver's seat and tapping the steering wheel ferociously as I thought. I stopped, picking up my phone and scrolling through the contacts. She was n't listed. 
 That was n't possible, she'd always been in there, and on the off chance that I'd somehow managed to delete her by mistake I checked the call logs for the records I knew must be there. They were n't. 
 In an age where we write everything down and let computers remember things for us it might have been entirely possible for me to have never memorised her number, and maybe if she'd ever changed it I would n't have. But she'd had the number for as long as I'd known her, and my fingers remembered how to dial it. 
 I finished dialling and hit the call button, tapping into speaker-mode so that it would n't matter if I fumbled the phone when she picked up. It rang twice, then the telco advised me that the number was invalid. I tried again with the same response. I put my phone away, and ran my hands through my hair with tension. 
 I caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror. `` What's going on, Jas?'' I demanded of the reflection, although he did n't have any more answer than I did. 
 A noise from next door attracted my attention, the sound of metal clanging as the neighbour put his garbage where it needed to be. He looked over at me and gave me a bit of an uncertain wave before making his way over. 
 It was a relief as I recognised the man as Curt Peterson, he was a retired gym teacher and I knew him from back when my girlfriend and I started going out. Good guy, friendly and helpful, and he always throws the best barbecues. If anyone was going to be of help it would be him. 
 `` Curt!'' I called out. `` Do you know what's going on?'' 
 He stopped at that, puzzled and looking at me suspiciously now. `` Do I know you?'' 
 It was my turn to be puzzled. `` Yeah, Curt... I've come to a bunch of your parties.'' 
 He shook his head slowly, but he must have picked up on the honesty in my confusion because his suspicion faded. `` Sorry, boy, I do n't remember you.'' 
 `` Do you know what happened here?'' I asked him, gesturing at the house. `` What's it doing all boarded up?'' 
 He looked at the house and then at me like I was some kind of fool. `` This place has been boarded up for over ten years. Previous owners just disappeared one day. I mow the lawn every now and then to keep it a bit tidy, cos you know the bank is n't gon na do it.'' 
 `` Ten years?'' I asked, bewildered. `` That was around the time she should have moved in...'' 
 `` Who moved in?'' Curt asked, growing concerned now. `` Are you alright, boy? Should I call for someone...'' 
 Who moved in? It was a good question. I remembered her face but the name was n't there. How had I forgotten something like that? It was impossible. But if it was impossible, how had it happened? 
 `` I do n't know...'' I answered lamely. `` I ca n't remember.'' 
 He nodded with understanding. `` Maybe you just need to sit down? Something's got you rattled, and there's no good driving like that. Come on inside, my wife'll fix you a lemonade.'' 
 `` That does sound good,'' I agreed. I remembered that Curt's wife made lemonade herself, and took great pride in making it taste as delicious as she could. 
 Somebody had once told me that nobody ever passed up Mrs Peterson's lemonade, somebody who had smelled of strawberries, but you know... I could n't tell you who.
