“I’ll be back in ten.” He said twenty minutes ago.
She unfolds herself out of the car, waves and rushes inside for coffee and a favorite, crumb cake.
Now she sits at an umbrella table, the too hot to hold cup cooling surrounded by the Mountains and hugs her tote. Reminds herself; we are in Albuquerque staying at the Holiday Inn or is it the Comfort?
How long does it take to get gas?
She savors the cinnamon crumbs alternated by sips of dark roasted coffee.
After thirty minutes, she does the math. Thirty minutes ago he said, “I’ll be back in ten.” So forty minutes have passed. I’ll phone, and uses voice command to Call Bob, her husband of forth-six years.
His voice mail automatically goes on and she says, “It’s me, where are you?”
Ten more minutes pass.
In the distance fire sirens screechy, and she thinks, maybe he had a heart attack and tries to recall the car rental company they used at the airport.
She caresses her cell, debates whether to call 911, and deposits her empty cup in a nearby garbage pail. When a car horn honks and he calls, “You’ll never guess what happened.”
. . . . Seriously Just Saying
Tagged: writing prompt