Ten missed calls in ten minutes. He texted, Very funny. Where are you? Followed by, I’m sorry. I’m coming back. He added three heart emojis like bandages that never touch the wound.
He drove the highway shoulder for a mile with hazards on, scanning the verge like guilt had eyes. Trucks wove past, horns hot with disapproval.
At the next exit, he flipped around and headed back to the station like a dog who finally admits he dropped the ball somewhere.
