Letter.

  I always dread driving home on days like this. On days when I know my lovie will not be there. He will be out of town for the next two nights and I will be at home, eating left-overs, and renting cheesy chick flick movies that I otherwise would not get to watch.

  When I walked in the house, I noticed the kitchen was clean, the bed was made, and I was without a note. I thought to myself, "Justin always leaves notes when he's going to be away!" Another thought: "Maybe he didn't leave a note because of that really blown-out-of-proportion fight we had last night."

  Either way, I wasn't ready to give up hope. I checked on the bed, under the pillows, in the kitchen, and on the couch. Why did he not leave me a note? A good-bye? Very sad, I poked out my bottomlip as if someone was there with me to give me a pat on the back or throw one of those "I could walk a mile..." quotes at me.

   As I realized I had searched the entire house still carrying my purse, I decided it would be a load off my shoulders, quite literally, if I put it down. Seeing as how I was not going to be cooking dinner tonight, nor was I going to be using our kitchen table, I laid my purse smack dab down in the middle.

  I guess it turns out I did not actually search the entire house before entering into my state of drama, because when I looked down at the spot I had just laid my bag, low and behold, there was a note! How I missed it, I am not sure, but I was a happy camper.

  I miss my husband.