The day, as I recall, was gray, steely, cold but not bitingly so. Concerned at Dad's lateness, I pulled out my phone and dialed my dad's house. Answering machine. I called his cell phone. Voice mail. I even called his OnStar number, which he didn't usually activate unless he was planning to be on the road--which seldom happened anymore.
Concern now turned to...what? Not worry, exactly, for I now knew that something was completely and seriously wrong. The question now was only what I would find when I went to the house.
I turned and went down the hill to my office to retrieve my things. I knew I wouldn't be back that day.
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