Out the window I see the dark skies surrounding, the winds seem solemn, and I hear loud voices then I see her face has makeup running down, I see her dried up tears. Last week we went to the mall to pick out some clothes for the baby we have on the way.
But now I picture the scars on her arm and wounds on her body that are hidden by the white sheet that lay over her plump round stomach that is now empty and no longer moving up and down along with her breath. I look in the driveway where I hear voices. My wife’s car is gone, totaled. I then see a man standing in a stooped position. His clothes are ratty and messy. He looks like a sloppy drunken man, but then I turn my head once more and he’s gone.
I sat up in bed looking at my wifes face. Her pale skin seeming so soft and surreal. I wait for her to wake up. She breaths in and out lifting her chest up and down.
Tomorrow we are heading to the hospital, the baby is supposed to be coming any day now.

I wait.

Her eyes flutter open, and she whispers in my ear, “I miss you” but I tell her I’m still here. I look down at her stomach, its flat and empty.