Paragraph Four

I woke up this morning to an empty left side of the bed. I assumed he was on the couch, he was not. I am sure that he had a few beers at Stephens and just crashed there, I am sure that they just stayed up entirely to late playing x-box, I am sure that all he did last night was kill vertual zombies with his guard buddy, I am sure.
But my mind still wanders and I remember that he was tired already when he left the house, that he has a habit of texting while driving...that Stephen's fiance is mad at Kevin and I don't know her well enough to be sure that she wouldn't poisin his soda, that he could be hurt.
The place that my thoughts do not go is the obviouse place. That he may have misled me, that there is someone else. There is enough trust between the two of us that not until I actually typed it out..."He never came home last night" did I think of the common reaction to the situation.
I wish he would have text, or left a voice mail, or updated his status on Facebook or something just so that I would know that he is ok. I am sure that he is. Ok. I just can't keep my imagination in check of him lying in a hospital bed from dozing off at the wheel and driving over the curb and thru someone's living room then flipping the truck over their abnormaly large sofa.
Good God. Kevin. Text me damnit!