He saw less of the his friends over the years. The guys he had known since high school who he always enjoyed grabbing a beer with. Victor was not sure when those get togethers stopped. He noticed that his supply of beer was not getting replenished unless he bought it himself. He did not drink often, but did enjoy a cold beer when watching football or after a long day of work. There always seemed to be a good stock of wine around though. Sheryl had no qualms about offering him a glass. Drinking wine while watching football did not feel right. It did feel right when watching reality television with Sheryl. Victor was not sure when the Bachelor took presidence over the Steelers.
Victor would work in the yard to pass the time. Getting outside was a nice escape. Victor kept his tools and lawn equipment meticulously placed in the shed in the back yard. Everything easy to find and ready to be used. Of course, he did not all the tools and equipment all the time. It took a while to notice things were missing. Sheryl claimed to not know anything about it. When the lawnmower was suddenly relocated to the garage and a little coffee table and chair replaced it in the shed Victor realized he had lost that space.
Victor's items, the ones he could still find, ended up in the garage. Much of it boxed up. The house had acquired more items that were either scented or not to be touched. Victor spent his days at work, and would promptly return home to try to touch as little as possible while Sheryl sipped wine and watched America's Got Talent. He had to return home quickly or Sheryl would call his cell phone and ask him why he was not home. Victor loathed traffic as even a five minute delay would trigger a call.
He found himself going to bed earlier. He felt tired all the time. After a robust dinner of salad that Sheryl had prepared for them because it was healthier Victor turned in early. His sleep was often troubled, but leaving the bed in the middle of the night might make Sheryl ask him why he was not comfortable sharing a bed with her.
It was that restless sleep that led Victor to discover Sheryl's absense in the dead of night. He rose up to look for her and that led him to peer out of the window and see the light coming from the shed. He saw Sheryl sitting down there alone. He did not ask her about it the next morning.
The following night was the same. He became senstive to her slipping from the bed nightly. Every night it was the same. Every night she would go down to the shed. Her shed. Victor would be back in bed by the time she returned. He noticed a faint scent on her on her returns. The faint smell of pumpkin spice.
Victor felt himself becoming more sluggish and tired as this went on. He figured it was the interrupted sleep as he could not help but get up after Sheryl went out back to watch her. Every night, the same thing.
The shed had been completely redecorated. It only ressembled his old shed in structure. Now it was the centerpiece of the back yard. Victor could not help but feel his stomach sink whenever he was near it. After seeing himself in the mirror and seeing the sunken man looking back at him, he knew he had to do something. He was waiting away.
Victor investigated the shed when Sheryl was having brunch with her friends on Saturday morning. It took everything he could muster to step inside of it. The scent of spices and herbs was overpowering. He stumbled and his foot shifted the rug on the floor. That's when he saw them.
The sigils. The strange arcane symbols. They looked like they were almost pulsating. He knew then. He was wasting away as Sheryl was becoming more vibrant and happy.
He had to destroy it. It was either the shed or him. He knew Sheryl could be home at any time. Vicotr rushed to get some gasoline from the garage which he used to store in the shed for his lawnmower. He doused the inside and lit it. He had hoped it would be completely destroyed by the time Sheryl returned. He was not so lucky.
It was not long before the shed was rebuilt. It was nearly identical to as it was before. Victor was defeated. He knew he was doomed. He walked the small dog Sheryl had bought herself to comfort her with the burning of the shed. He walked the neighborhood and looked at the yards. It started out as only a few at first but the number grew. More sheds. Victor noticed more men walking small skittish dogs as well. They were all walking, hunched over, drained. Victor would meet the gaze of their hollow eyes. He was desperate to try to connect with any of them, to try to figure out how to stop this.
It never happened. Sheryl would not like it.
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