Quiet Talk

I’m having the hardest time getting back into work mode this week. JJ and I both felt out of sorts when we got home last night. Seeing my mom, the unexpected snow, spending so much time on the road…it all made us tired and cranky.

After dinner, we retreated to our bed. I’d been writing like a fiend every minute I could all weekend, but last night I died. I couldn’t do any more. We laid there, holding hands, staring at the ceiling, listening to the radiator as it hissed in the corner.

“I’m glad we went,” he said, “but I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too. She’s hiring movers to do the heavy stuff, and Irene and Dan are going to fetch her and drive her to WI.”

Long silence.

“When do you think you have to leave?”

“Not sure yet. I’m thinking between Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Jeez, Fen…you won’t be here for Christmas?”

I tightened my hand around his. “I don’t know yet, but it’s not a big holiday to us anyway.” Suki wriggled up between us. “You sure about me taking the dog?”

“Yes. You need her. Give your notice at work yet?”

“Not yet. Waiting on some dates from the relatives.”

He rolled toward me, forcing Suki to move. “It’s getting too real now.”

“I know, babe.”

We didn’t say anything more about it that night.


About Fenraven

Fenraven happily lives in south Florida, where it is really hot most of the year. Find him on Twitter, Google +, and Facebook by searching on 'fenraven'.
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