As Malcolm drove up the hill he knew his wife, Lizzie, would be so happy to see him.
The radio was playing, he was singing along, glancing at once familiar land marks, as dozens of memories danced through his head.
It was all good.
He had done the right thing. He needed space, and he got space. Got lots of space and now, he was coming home.
The broadcaster was giving the news, and it struck him that it was two years and two days since he’d left. Wonder if that wasn’t some kind of sign?
Malcolm felt great. This hiatus life made him feel ten years younger.
The news was over, the music came back and Malcolm loved that tune, and sang out the song.
As he finished, he turned into the drive way. A strange car was there.