Inspired by part of a comment made by Sarah. Dedicated to all of the MMEPAC ladies, thank you for putting up with me over the last (nearly) 3 months, love you all!

Stepping silently out of the bedroom, still in barefeet and clothed in only a vest and stripy pyjama bottoms, Patrick turned the cold, metal door handle as far as it went and pulled the door toward him and moved out, closing it behind him with his hand against it to limit the noise as it closed into the door frame.

He wasn't due to start work until later after lunch, but he felt that his tossing and tossing in the bed after he had awoken minutes earlier would wake his wife. He found that once he was awake, there was no hope of getting back to sleep.

He shuffled along the hallway, his toes burrowing themselves deep into the carpet with every step. Each movement he did with caution in the darkness of the early morning.

Knowing the pathway of the hallway and number of steps he had to take, he automatically reached for the open bathroom door and gently pushed it further open. Slipping through the gap and closing the wood behind him, he pulled the thin, white string next to the door that was attached to the light bulb on the high ceiling.

Light flooded the room. The white from the bathtub and sink glistened from the bright glow high above and small water droplets on the taps sparkled.

Patrick stood and through the slits of his half-open eyes, he found his blue toothbrush and opening the mirrored cupboard in front of him, above the sink, he saw the white capped toothpaste.

Minutes went past as Patrick went about his normal, daily routine in the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, then undressed and got into the shallow warm, water which he had run soon after entering the room. After a ten minute soak, he took hold of the towel, which he left hanging over the sink basin, and stood up to dry himself off.

"Wrapping the towel around his waist, he held it in place as he stepping back out of the bath, and over to the sink, once more, to shave the stubble that had grown overnight.

Soon, he was dressed in clean clothes, which he had left in the room last night to avoid rummaging around in the dark whilst Shelagh was still asleep in the morning. He took one last look around the room, his wife hated any mess, deciding that it was tidy enough closed off the light and headed back out into the cooler hallway.

Once entering the living room and placing his nightwear onto the arm of the sofa, Patrick shuffled onto the cold tiles in the kitchen. Finding them too cold, he walked over to the kettle on his tip-toes and when it was switched on and starting to roar into life, he quickly went back into the warmth of the living room. He rifled through his pile of medical journals and chose the issue from the month before, placing it on the small table on his way to the kitchen at the familiar sound of the kettle finishing it's job.

Filling up his tea cup he heard Shelagh's heavy slipper-clad footsteps making their way through the hallway, briefly stopping as she checked to see if Timothy was awake as she did every morning; and then continue to the kitchen door.

Her voice, still croaky from her sleep, sounded into the small kitchen.

"Morning darling"