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Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #2040123
Writing for Daily Flash. Literary Voice
Normal  (197)

Everything is ready.  The squash is cooked exactly to your mother's recipe.  The meat, a perfect medium rare, is resting.  Yeast rolls have just come out of the oven.

I always set the table for four.  But, we won't wait.  I never know when you're going to be late. 

The kids have eaten, and I cover your plate with foil and place it in the oven.  When you get home it will be warm.

I know that your work is important.  You must stay and finish.  They depend on you. 

I check the driveway again.  A silly reflex.  The driveway is empty.

I wish you would call.  You say you'll text, but the texts don't always get through.  Between the city, the suburb, and the train they just get lost or show up hours later.  I know it happens.  I've secretly tested it.

The kids are bathed and asleep.  I move your plate from the oven to the fridge.  Tomorrow I'll have it for lunch.

I'm awakened by your warm lips lingering on my forehead.  Your smile.  Your scent is stale, a mixture of city, filtered air, and train.  Everything seems normal.

But, I wonder. I worry.
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