I know he said he would be off of work an hour ago, but where is he? I text him; he responds that he is on his way. This gives me time to arrange my gifts and prepare for his entry through the door. I sit in the entryway and wait. Minutes pass which turn to an hour. I text him again with no response. He must still be driving, or picking up flowers for me on his way home. I sit back onto the floor and continue to play with our new puppy. I decide to give him the opportunity to name her this evening. Another half hour passes, and a knock sounds from the door. I find it weird that he wouldn’t use his keys. I open the door only to be stunned by flashing lights. The man speaks, my heart sinks. I don’t think about the puppy who has disappeared from my grasp. It all happens in a blur. I can’t remember how I got there, or where I parked. I run through the front doors in hysterics. I check into the front desk before charging through the halls. Upon seeing his room I collapse onto the tile. The doctor comes in and states that he is in critical condition. I am handed his items. “Are you melanie?” the man questions. I manage to shake my head on my fiances chest. I turn to look at the man as he opens his mouth, “the last text he sent was to you, only seconds before he crashed.” Just then, the flatline sounds.
This piece is a first person perspective from a woman who’s husband has just crashed from texting and driving. It is heir anniversary and she impatiently waits for him with the puppy she has just bought for him to cheer him up after a tough work day. The police officer comes to her door to alert her of the news.