The Basement
It was a small dingy room in the basement. A single lamp hung from the beam above the cluttered table where Nate Huffman sat writing on one of the many pages littered in front of him. He was in his mid forties, a district attorney with little time for anything but his cases and courthouse. Struggling with his marriage with two neglected children he was at the brink of bankruptcy, life wasn't that of roses. In fact, he was stalking on the thorns.
Time elapsed slowly Nate was tired and hungry. He heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up as Angela approached him. She was ten years younger than him with beautiful features. She looked exhausted and observed Nate with puffy eyes.
"Mr. Tradeau called. Our garden house ventured collapsed an hour ago." Nate remained silent. He had somehow expected it. However, tears swarmed in his wife's eyes and he could not hold his tongue any longer.
"I know matters are not going well, personally nor financially. But we'll find a way out."
"Nate, I'm worried about the kids, our house and our carriers…" she said, shedding even more tears that were conspicuous in the beam light. Nate didn't know what to say. It would have been better if she would have shouted back and told him how disappointed she was. He ha\ted when she cried her eyes out. This sincere notion was the evidence that he loved her. She had been there for him in his joys, sorrows and obstacles in his carrier. He had been his soul mate, a consummate, survivor.
He got up and came face to face with her. He wiped her tears with his hands and she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulders. The lugubrious atmosphere changed and she recuperated slowly. He had not been able to give her comfort, joy, wealth; least he could give her was love.
The left the basement together, his arms around her shoulder. His solicitousness was enough for her to be happy. As they went out, Nate switched off the light, where darkness deepened and the basement was virtually impenetrable once more.