On the second morning I wished I could call him and ask him to come back so we could talk. I could make him understand, I was sure of it. I missed him... I wanted to touch him and I wanted him near me so I could smell his after shave and hear one of his stupid stories about Italy. The next day found me as a mess. My heart started to ache around noon that day, I was sure it was because I missed him so. The problem with three words seemed stupid now, insignificant and small. I became angry at. Every few minutes, Tiffany or Henry would climb up on top of a snowdrift, to look and see if the bus was coming. The bus had never been this late before.After a while, Tiffany happened to glance back up the road to their house, and saw the sun coming up. "It's getting late," she said. "I think we missed the bus." I think so, too," Henry said. "I'm getting c-c-cold."They waited a couple more minutes, with Tiffany slowly coming to the realization that any more waiting was futile. "All right,. More

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