Disclamer: I don't own any of these characters, but I wish I did.
I Am Her Husband
"Aren't you going to bed yet?" She asks, unpatiently yet lovingly. She knows I do not stop until my work is finished, but she still has to ask. It's apart of her routine. She taps her tapered fingernails on the table when she feels like she has nothing to do. She loves to sing in the shower. These are all things that only I notice. I am, after all, her husband.
I married her when she was twenty. She gave birth to our daughter a year later. We named her Lorelai. It was the only time I begged her to do anything. Sixteen years later I watched her deteriorate as Lorelai ran away with our newborn granddaughter. It took her a year to come out of her depression. I had no idea how to comfort her, but luckily she was and is a strong woman.
I shut my laptop and look up to see her watching me from the doorway. I smile when I realize that she has been watching me the entire time. She gives a sly smile to match my smile, and walks over to me. I stand up and she straightens my tie, even though I am about to prepare to go to sleep. She looks in my eyes, and my knees go weak, as they always have. I brush her bangs out of her face, and wrap my arms around her. I say her name, 'Emily Louise.' She blushes and I pull her closer. She leans her head on my chest. I see the grey roots in her hair and they make me smile. It's hard to believe we have been married for over thirty years. When I am with her I feel young.
"Are you ready for bed now?"She asks with her head still nestled on my chest.
"Yes, I think I am." I pull apart from her, look at her, then put my arm around her side. She puts her head on my shoulder, and we walk to our bedroom together.
I Am Her Husband
"Aren't you going to bed yet?" She asks, unpatiently yet lovingly. She knows I do not stop until my work is finished, but she still has to ask. It's apart of her routine. She taps her tapered fingernails on the table when she feels like she has nothing to do. She loves to sing in the shower. These are all things that only I notice. I am, after all, her husband.
I married her when she was twenty. She gave birth to our daughter a year later. We named her Lorelai. It was the only time I begged her to do anything. Sixteen years later I watched her deteriorate as Lorelai ran away with our newborn granddaughter. It took her a year to come out of her depression. I had no idea how to comfort her, but luckily she was and is a strong woman.
I shut my laptop and look up to see her watching me from the doorway. I smile when I realize that she has been watching me the entire time. She gives a sly smile to match my smile, and walks over to me. I stand up and she straightens my tie, even though I am about to prepare to go to sleep. She looks in my eyes, and my knees go weak, as they always have. I brush her bangs out of her face, and wrap my arms around her. I say her name, 'Emily Louise.' She blushes and I pull her closer. She leans her head on my chest. I see the grey roots in her hair and they make me smile. It's hard to believe we have been married for over thirty years. When I am with her I feel young.
"Are you ready for bed now?"She asks with her head still nestled on my chest.
"Yes, I think I am." I pull apart from her, look at her, then put my arm around her side. She puts her head on my shoulder, and we walk to our bedroom together.
