“There’s something strange here, John,” Sam finally muttered, his eyes not leaving the toilet bowl. The weight in his voice was enough to make John’s hands clench at his sides. The silent house suddenly seemed too quiet, the ticking of the wall clock magnified to a deafening level in John’s ears.
While John wasn’t privy to the details, he could tell that Sam was struggling with something. He observed Sam withdrawing from the bathroom periodically, pacing in the hallway, rubbing his bearded chin, and mumbling under his breath. It seemed like he was grappling with a decision of whether to reveal something significant.