A short written for the linebyline prompt community:
I kind of cheated this week. I started this forever ago and abandoned it, and tonight I was looking through some old stuff and it popped up, so I thought I would revise and add to it and try to fit this week’s line in it because– well hell. That is a hard line. So here we go.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the pre-dawn darkness and objects about the room started to take shape. Her head shifted slightly toward the source of a mysterious sound in the room, the one that startled her awake and made her heart race. No matter how often this happened, she’d never get used to him being there at random times during the night.
In a few minutes, he would drop his arm from where it was usually slung casually across his forehead, roll over, swing his legs to the floor, and quietly, gently, get out of the bed. She would hear sounds of him padding about the room, barefoot, looking for the clothes he had flung hours earlier in a path to the bed. Then sounds of him putting them on—thick denim being yanked onto muscular, hairy legs, a loud zipper, a button. A shirt being pulled over his head, searching in the dark for the arm holes. Socks, then a dip in the bed as he sat to pull his shoes on. He would pick up his sweatshirt, the one that zipped up the front, and then tiptoe around to her side of the bed, lean down and brush dry, chapped lips across her cheek, tap her rump and whisper ‘thanks’ when her eyes fluttered open briefly. Then he would stealthily move about the house, checking for his wallet, jingling his keys, and walk out. She would hear him test the lock a few times to make sure she was locked inside. He always tested the lock.
[read the rest at the archive]