You get 4 today, since the third made it into Chapter 19 almost word for word. As a note, just because I write a snippet, doesn't mean it gets included in the story. It's just an idea.
The world isn't full of chocolate and wine-sauce. Sometimes its just dry ham sandwiches and silence. Lately, if she's lucky, its the sort of silence that means he's locked in his own head. There's a difference to tired thoughts about laundry and alarm clocks and the stewing rage of frustration and disappointment. Tonight she bites through the layers like the click of her teeth could ignite his fuse.
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.
A quiet room tolerates little dissention. Even hushed whispers said in placid tones could rip over the bobbing heads. So he gave up on squelching the broadcast of his argument. There's no point to an effort that will never meet the bar of silence. Each face whipped in his direction. Some were shocked and frozen that way, others distilled into admonishment, neither dissuaded him from his verbal assault on his wilting target.
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.
She could tell when he registered her in the crowd. His eyes popped open a little wider and his chin nudged up, shoulders rolled back. He excused himself carefully, and she pushed back out to meet him on the outside edge. He kept his arms crossed, holding his elbows.
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She thought that dogs were supposed to be on the pile of old shirts in the corner. The cold nose that cuddled into her side indicated otherwise. At least it explained why the sheets were always clean and the comforter freshly laundered. The biggest hint at his usual arrangement was the sleepy motion of his hand which had found the crest between her ears.
"There's a dog in your bed." She grumbled.
"Shhhh, you must be dreaming. Dogs aren't allowed in bed." He mumbled but continued the motion undeterred.