Sitting and drying my hair after an hour-long soak in the tub, I check my cell again. It’s past seven pm, and he promised he would be here long before bed. I still haven’t heard anything and am starting to get antsy. Sure, he has come in through the night a million times, but he always calls or texts, and I’m starting to fear that something has happened to him. I find myself immediately googling news channels for any word of lost or crashed planes, even though I know I’m being dumb. ...