minishorts.net: You're Almost There

Wednesday, May 5

You're Almost There

She hears the grille roll. The lazy brush of his footsteps, his loud breathing at the front door. She trembles as the stirring continues, the sound of popping bubbles arising from the boiling of his favourite soup. She waits.

And waits.

She hears the door of their bedroom closing. She hears the shower facet being turned on, the house isn't that big after all. She hears the water gush out. And she hears him singing, singing in the shower.

The sound is horrible.

She closes her eyes.

She remembers. In the first month, the excitement of sharing a room legally for the first time. She remembers how she used to eagerly await his return, how she used to make sure she left the office earlier so that she could arrive home earlier than he would, so that she could make him his favourite dishes. She remembers how, when she heard the grille roll, she would be standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, and how he would walk to the kitchen. She would pretend to not know he had arrived home, and his arms would encircle her waist, his lips would stamp their mark upon her neck, and she would gasp, turn around, playfully beat him on the chest.

And they would emerge breathless.

She closes her eyes. If she tries hard enough, what she remembers and imagines could almost be real.

Almost.

¶ 15:57

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