Having left Charles alone for the first time since learning what was going on with him, I couldn't really concentrate at work. Thankfully, I'd been waiting tables for most of the last five years, so I managed to run much of my shift on little more than habit. My tips were markedly lower than usual, though, and I was glad for the end of the night.
I rushed through gathering everything up at my locker but stopped long enough to check my phone: one missed call, one message. The call had been from my home number. Hurrying to my car, I tossed short nods to a couple passing co-workers as I listened to the message.
"Hey, um, I'm at the store." Charles' voice was rushed, a tinge of nerves. The call had come through about two hours ago, and I tried to not concentrate on only the worst possibilities. It could have been anything, I told myself as I pulled out of the parking lot. He could have been going to the store and was checking to see if I wanted anything, he could have been letting me know where he'd gone in case I got home early, anything like that.
I edged the gas pedal down a little harder.
Finally arriving home and turning into my parking spot faster than I should have, I reached to turn off my headlights but my hand stopped just before reaching the switch. My headlights were cast on my front door, and some small shape was illuminated in the unnatural brightness. I looked around but saw no one outside.
Staring harder, I saw the shape was my house phone, leaned against the door. The feeling that washed into me was something like surprise and something just the opposite.
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