Devour You

40

Rio

Whipping into the the cemented driveway, the first thing I notice is the absence of Victoria's Nissan. Usually parked right outside the garage and in front of my BMW - her silver vehicle isn't there.

I lick my lips slowly a moment, when partial disappointment settles in me - and I glimpse down to the flowers I bought her this morning; the crimson red roses bestowed on the passenger seat.

I pull up and eventually remove the car keys from the ignition, before I exit. I'm sure to take the roses into my grasp, before coming up to the small wooden front porch. Taking out the house key to unlock the front door, I push it open to gather an empty house - much expected from the desolate driveway outside.

The strong aroma of coffee smacks against me instantly, when I shut the door and head toward the kitchen. One of my fiancé's ceramic mugs are placed on the island, and I walk over only to see it filled with her favorite caffeinated drink. Curiosity strikes me as to wear she headed - and I then begin pondering on if she ever viewed my note.

I sit the bouquet of roses across the fine granite countertop. Making my way upstairs, the bold scent of coffee soon slips away.

When I enter our bedroom, my dark brown eyes fix on the keen bed, up against the farthest wall in the center of the room, and Victoria's plumped pillow with a sheet of paper upon it. Taking the thin paper into my hands, I read it.

Tried calling you, babe! I figured I'd leave you a note too! Ran to the nearest Super Market for sugar, so I'll be back shortly. I love you...
Signed,
Your fiancé.

I glance down to the small heart she drew underneath the last written words. Placing the hand written note back on the bed, with twitched lips, I leave the bedroom - in certainty that she has indeed read my note earlier. Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I dial Victoria's number to inform her that her note just may have made my morning.

But, there's no answer.

I lick my lips glancing down to the phone screen again, before reverting the device into the pocket of my jeans. I don't think much of her not answering - I'm not too possessive.

....

Anyway, minutes after I head outside again, mainly to distract myself while the fiancé's out, and taking out the groceries from the car for later tonight, I bring them inside.
I bought a couple of t-bone steaks with some vegetables to go on the side - the veggies being the queen's favorite part.

Minutes after putting up the dinner in the house, I settle down and relax, in wait for my fiancé's arrival.

And I plop down on my admired couch; the black denim jacket I vesture blending in with the comfortable dark sofa. I tug at the dark beanie on my head, while flipping through the channels of the television. But I come to find out that the channels are wack and do nothing but bore me. I turn the t.v off before placing the remote on the coffee table ahead of me.

Leaning back on the couch again in a lazy manner, teeth tugging at my bottom lip, I glance down to my watch - in accordance to the time.

Unavoidably, I start to feel slumped; the lacking of my fiancé's presence beginning to weigh me down. And when noting the ten minutes that has passed since I brought the groceries in, my thick brows draw together.

I shove a hand into the pocket of my jeans for reach of my phone once again, and I pull it out. Peering down solemnly at the screen, I dial a friend's number.