Carter stepped over the pile of mail into the hall and paused. It struck him that vacant houses always held a strange quality of silence; cold and hollow. Somehow it created a small fear; a sense of dread as to what might be lying in wait. The air in the living room was stale and musty. In the kitchen the sink was full of dirty plates. He climbed the stairs, pausing on the landing. The door to the master bedroom was closed. Apparently she hadn’t been seen for three weeks. He pushed the door open, surprised to find it empty.
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.