“Hey, honey,” I spoke into the phone. A smile was hooking my mouth upward just at the prospect of hearing his voice. I was forced to talk loudly to be heard over the heavy rain that enclosed my car in loud, vigorous sheets.
“When are you going to be home?” he asked curiously, bypassing the normal greeting of a ‘hello.’ In the background, I could hear the steaming of whatever it was that he was cooking for dinner and the faint sound of a television.
“Fifteen minutes,” I answered automatically. I turned my blinker on, waiting impatiently at a red light. All I wanted to do was return home from a long day at work and see the two people that held me together.
“Okay, can you pick up some more formula?”
“We’re out again?” I groaned, hoping I had somehow heard wrong. That was the third time that month.
“Yes.”
“I’ll get some more then. Be there soon,” I added, though I didn’t want to delay seeing him for one minute. The light turned green and I started to turn into the convenience store, hoping they would have what I needed. The road was getting slick from all the rain, and for a moment I was worried.
The last thing I remembered was screaming as I lost control, the car going into hydroplane and spinning off the road.