• Rocking back and forth, a tall man waits impatiently at a bus stop. Sitting on the hardly comfortable bench, he fiddled with his fingers as they rested on his dark briefcase. He breathed harshly in the cold December afternoon. Why? Oh why, did he have to miss his stop? The softly blowing wind only exasperated him more, for all he had for protection from the harsh elements was his relatively thin trench coat. What a fool he though of himself for expecting this little piece of cloth to keep him warm.

    His lips, numb and chapped; his skin, cold and pale, they only made him seem all the more ruthless.

    "I was supposed to be with my family by now," he thought.

    Thinking of the warm treats and lavish feast only made him feel worse for being late. His mouth watered at the thought of what he must be missing, but his daydreams were repaid with nothing more than yet another snowflake on his seemingly frostbitten skin.

    "Ah, damn it," he uttered coldly to himself.

    Finally, what seemed to be a god-send arrived. The man's face brightened as he noticed a square figure traveling gradually down the slick road. The square figure, being none other than the bus.

    The man stood and felt a subtle warmth crawling through his body once more.

    While making his way up the vehicle's steps, he greeted the driver with a nod, and found an isolated seat near the back of the bus.

    There he sat, briefcase by his side, and his head resting on the cold window. The ride is short, but his restlessness makes it seem to take hours.

    He steps off the bus and is greeted by a warm home. A home he's been dying to set foot in since his departure.

    He knocks softly at the wooden door. As it opens, he is greeted by warm and smiling faces. Faces he recognizes, faces he's known all his life. His senses are aroused by the scents of delectable pastries. The sweet aroma of home made cookies, the freshness of pine, and the chatter coming from his loved relatives. His cold lifeless skin comes back to life. His blood coursing through his veins, the heart beating inside his body, he can feel it all.

    There, staring down at him from the foot of the staircase is his daughter. Dark brown hair, neatly done into two braids. Each with a red ribbon, keeping them together. Her eyes, the ones she aquired from her mother, sparkle in the light. She smiles warmly, revealing one missing tooth, and runs toward her father in excitement.

    Her daddy hugs her tightly, throwing aside his briefcase in the process.

    "Mommy, daddy's back." She runs into the kitchen to get her mother.

    The man's wife comes into the hallway, complete with the scent of fresh cookies and chocolate. Her face, slightly tan except for a small amount of dough on her cheek.

    She hugs her husband, glad that he's home. Her husband embraces her curves lovingly, then turns to face the guests who are also glad to see he has come.

    Walking towards the guests, he settles himself down on the couch. Turning on the television while making small talk with his friends, he flips to the news. The merry making continues, but the man suddenly stops in shock at the news report.

    A car crash. The slick terrain caused a bus to slip out of control and crash violently off a bridge. No passengers survived. This tragedy occurred during the time he waited at the bus stop. If he hadn't missed the original stop, perhaps he would've missed a lot more.

    Looking down at his daughter who was nestled in his arms, he thought to himself. Not everyone came home for the holidays.