During the blustering snow fall that was, I had to give everyone something to cuddle up to. This may warm you, it may not, but hopefully you're growing attached to this elder in his life. He reminds me of so many characters who I've met, got to know and even loved, yet is his own person, in his own fictional right. Sometimes when I'm writing this piece I get a little melancholic, thinking of those people who have come and gone in my life, hell, this time of year is notorious for stirring the emotional melting pot. Please indulge and by all means leave some comments for me. Thanks for reading! More fiction, not so cheap, here: Blood, Dreams & Tears.
It was three a.m.
My wife was snoring. I was exhausted, it felt like I had been asleep for days, yet was running a marathon. I didn’t want to roll on top of her. How could I? Not after the stunts I’ve been pulling chasing the Tattlerat through the yard and hiding from it. I got up, shut the alarm clock off and heard her talk in her sleep. I was floating through a dilemma and not speaking about it, I was unplugged, and that confusion was worsening. This nightmare was my life, this day walk was my future, my being, my existence, and I had to deal with it.
“You weren’t a bad man, we love you.” My wife whispered hauntingly.
She may have been having fevered dreams about her father. She had them often, and never discussed them, but that loss hurt her deeply and came out on a subconscious level.
“I love you.” I kissed her forehead; she smiled and stopped sleep talking.
In the back of my head I thought I wanted to hop into bed, hug her tightly, and say I’m calling in, we should just be bums today, something she always said to me, but I didn’t say a word. The reality of my job and life outside of the house was too much of a pull; it was that damn dangling carrot that limply wiggled in the forefront. I ambled through and poured my coffee.