Kimberly
I lay on the guest bed until the light in the room began to change. The sun sank lower, and the shadows stretched across the wall.
I sat up.
My phone still displayed the contract page, open to the section about partners. I closed it.
I walked out to the hall. The bedroom door was open. My husband was inside. He had put clean sheets on the bed. The windows were open. Fresh air came in. He was folding the old sheets into a bag.
He looked up when he heard me. “Hey. Did you rest?”
“A little. “The silence helped,” I answered.
He tied the bag shut.
“I can take these to the laundry room or wash them now, if you like,” he said.
When did you start asking my permission before doing the laundry?,” I snapped, face tight.
He set the bag by the door. “Are you hungry? It is past lunch
