The English muffin would not split. I was holding it over the sink, my thumbs inside, when the phone rang. I squinted across the kitchen at the Caller ID. Dad’s cell.
I finished getting the muffin apart, dropped it in the toaster, and walked over to the phone. I hit the return call button.
A woman’s voice. “Is this the girl whose father drives a green pick up truck?”
“Yes,” I said, imagining his phone left on a gas pump.
“I drive an eighteen-wheeler,” she said. “I think I just ran him off the road.”
theonewiththebooks 
Oh no! I sure hope you slice the rest of this story tomorrow! The way you left it hanging not only makes me wang to come back for more but also gives a tiny taste of what you must have been feeling at that moment. Yikes!
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Great story. I’m blown away 🙂
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What??!!?!! I HAVE to know what happens to your dad. Great suspense!!
Jennifer
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What happened then??? I need to find the next step in this story!
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Oh my G-d. My heart just skipped a beat. Is he okay? Not what I expected after reading about the English muffin.
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I hope this story has a happy ending. Please let us know!
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What?! I do hope your father is well, and that you will finish this post tomorrow.
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Wow, you left us hanging. I want to know…what happened to your father? Is he okay? The way you crafted this probably reflects exactly how you felt in that moment.
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I hope your story has a happy ending. Please keep us posted.
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I hope this is a well crafted piece of realistic fiction. YIKES. Either way, I hope Dad is OK.
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Wow! Speechless!!!
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Holy cow! What a minute! We need the rest of this slice! Right now! Is your father ok?
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