Why did he dream of this same nightmare again? Theodore's mind searched for an answer, but it was as if his memories were shrouded in a thick fog. All he could recall was a sense of feverish delirium before everything went black.

He lifted the covers and sat up, his gaze drawn to an empty cup resting on the nightstand.

A frown etched itself onto Theodore's face as he tried to retrace the events that had led him to this moment. He had never used this cup before. So why was it here?

As he mulled over it, the sound of clang and sizzling wafted through the air, indicating that someone was in the kitchen.

A sudden intuition struck him—could it be Horace?