The Text Message

The cellphone buzzed; it was another text message.
As usual, the message read 'be home soon, help bring stuff in, I love you.'.
He got off the couch and headed for the door to wait.
This has been his routine for the last five years.
His wife had taken their son food shopping; he could still see them in the car, the baby blissfully sucking on his pacifier as they drove away.
A freak accident had taken their lives within sight of home.
After an hour, he laid back down.
Tomorrow, the text will come again, and he'll be waiting.