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Fiction: Morning Routine (582 words)

11 Jul

I was so tired. I didn’t want to get up at all. But all I could see with my eyes closed was the list of things that had to get done today. So begrudgingly I opened my eyes and pulled myself up into a sitting position.

“Morning, sleepy head.” I turned and saw my husband sitting up against his pillows, playing with his phone.  Today was his day off, he could stay in bed as long as he wanted today—and when he did get out of bed, it would just be to move to the couch to play Xbox until it was time for him to make dinner because his only responsibility was to make our dinner tonight. And I kind of hated him a little bit for that. I told him as much.

“Aw, you’re my little go-getter. You’ll be perfectly fine today.” He smiled and blew me a kiss.

“I’m exhausted,” I countered, crossing to the outfit hanging on our closet door. “I’m fatigued. I’m burned out. I’m run down. Do you get it or do I need to keep going?”

“I’m thinking you might not have slept well.” He answered, putting down his phone, watching me start to get dressed. “Are you going to be okay driving?”

“Yes, I slept well enough that I’m not a danger to society.”

“Okay, just checking.” He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around me, preventing me from finishing the whole dressing process. “I don’t want you to run into a pole on the way to work.  That would absolutely ruin my day off.”

“Well, glad you’re so concerned.” I groaned. I half-heartedly tried to get away from him, before sighing and leaning against him. “I don’t want to go to work.”

“I know,” he answered softly, kissing me gently on the head, “But someone has to go make the big bucks, and that’s not me. This is what you get for getting that fancy college degree and working at the fancy desk job, and then marrying a lowly security guard.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I griped.

“But I cook for you. And I am quite the impressive chef. So—that counts for something?” He added hopefully.

“Yes, yes, that counts for a lot,” I had to ease his worry before he spent the whole day wondering if he really wasn’t good enough for me. “But right now, you have to let me go because if I fall asleep against your chest there will be no waking me up for work again.”

He made a ‘Mmm’ sound that I felt through his chest, while he considered making me fall back asleep, convincing me to call out of work sick and enjoy a day home together. But he knew that in the long run, I would feel guilty that I didn’t go in and work on all my projects, and if later down the road I needed that sick day and didn’t have it, I would irrationally blame him for it. So, he just kissed me on the head and let his hands fall to his sides.

“Tacos for dinner?” He asked, stepping away long enough for me to finish getting dressed.

“Sounds lovely.” I let him kiss me again, without holding me. If he held me again, we’d just be stuck in a cycle of embracing and letting go and embracing again, and I’d end up late for work.

“Stay safe out there,” he told me, crawling back into bed again.

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Posted by on July 11, 2017 in Stories

 

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