“I think Pepper is happy to see us,” said Leah. “She hasn’t moved since we got home.”

It’s my turn to make dinner, I get to dream up something to make, get everything around and get it done while you take a bath, complete, of course, with a glass of wine. Or two.

Janine had been working long hours for weeks and had made sure her boss knew that she was going to be gone on the 17th for their anniversary. The plans had been made two months in advance and she reminded him at least twice a week.

We finally scored a great table on the ship – right on the railing, all by ourselves, just taking time to relax and enjoy our dinner. It was a long day on the water, and the sunset is just the perfect end to the day.

We’ve been enjoying a glass or two of wine this evening, waiting for our table, and then sitting here, we have that perfect blend of attentive, but not around, service. It’s really great.

She was still sleeping while he snuck out to the store to get some fruit, some orange juice and a cheap bottle of champagne. They’d been up late and he figured that he had time to make pancakes and mimosas before she woke up.

It was the third day she had been doing yoga. She wasn’t really into the spiritual side, but she thought it was a good way to start the new year. Who couldn’t use a little peace?

It’s always the same, always looking for the tape, the ribbon, the scissors. It seems like no matter where you put them, she has moved them just a bit out of reach. It’s almost a game to re-find them between packages.

We’re wrapping and sipping and enjoying the fire and this strangely relaxed evening of package prep, getting ready for the holidays and family and all that.

I *hate* wrapping. I’m not good at it, and she’s always responsible for making the packages look passable once they’re beyond “but they have paper on them now anyway” stage. Ribbons? Bows? Frilly decoration-thingies? Forget it.

But, of course, you DO know how to incentivize. “For every package you wrap, we’ll play strip-wrapping – I’ll remove one piece of clothing of my choice.” This. This has me fully engaged in this process, I must admit.

She was in the tub and he had run out to get some wine and a snack for them. She heard the electronic lock open and then a knock on the bathroom door.

“I am so over wrapping presents. Next year, everyone is getting an online gift card.”

He called towards the bedroom, “We’re going to be late. Are you about ready?”

Silence.

She had given him the address and said it was a masquerade party. This was only their third date and he was nervous about meeting her friends.

He had come home from the farmer’s market with a bounty. All kinds of fruits and vegetables that looked amazing.

The lights didn’t even flicker. They were watching an intense scene in the action movie one second and were in total silence and darkness the next.

The back portion of the plant nursery looked abandoned. Not many people were looking for plants this time of year so all of the bright plants were at the front to encourage the few customers that they had.

She loved wandering museums as much as the next person, but she was getting bored. How many more rooms of paintings of well-coifed and dressed up people could there possibly be?

It sat on the counter. Just a key on a keychain with no indication of what it opened. He picked it up and looked closely at it.

As you pull in from a long day out working and just flat-out getting stuff done, you slowly walk to the door and fumble around with the key. I open it from the inside for you and hold my hand out – helping you across the threshold. “Well, hello, stranger… ” you say as you step in.

Just inside the door I have a blanket, folded up and on top of a big picnic basket.

“What’s this,” you ask, “are we going somewhere?”

She checked her phone for the 3rd time in the last five minutes. No messages from him and she had double-checked the time and place where they were supposed to meet. He was almost half an hour late.

She had finished the project. Whew! The client had signed off on it and it was time to celebrate.

This was to be a DD play night. But something is up. Something is whirling around in that head of hers that says it won’t “just” be a DD kind of night, but rather something else that is poking around.

“Remember when we were kids and made handprints in the sand,” she asks. “Yes, yes I do… but that’s sort of random, don’t you think?”

“Let’s grab coffee and some bagels and have breakfast in the park before it gets too hot,” you say before I’ve even opened my eyes.

We’re laying there, just listening to the dark around us. I can hear the rain on the roof (a rarity and amazing) and the winds howling outside off and on. I also hear far-distant thunder. It’s that rolling kind that’s just fun to listen to, not violent, not jolting, just almost like a drummer with a massive kettle drum of some sort playing a random tune.

I hear you whisper to me…

The day had been too hot to do the hike we had wanted to do so we had spent the entire day in front of the TV instead of the date we had planned.