This just sorta popped into my head while listening to 'Garbage'. Okay, so I have weird sources of wonderful inspirations. I love that when it happens. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Most of them belong to the wonderful Mr. Sorkin. 

Archive: Anywhere. 

Notes: This is a Hoynes story. Now, I know there may not be that many Hoynes fans. But hey, he can be cool.

~*~*~*

He must have just gotten back from talking to the President. I try to shurg it off and go back to my reading, but something makes me follow him.

I love the man too much not to wonder what is the matter. He has aged in last few years. Something that has bothered me. I hide by the wall, watching him undress and walk into the bathroom.

Worry. That's what I do. Worry. Day after day. I worry what's wrong with my husband that made him so bitter all of a sudden. And then I remember that it was the Presidential race that made him that way.

Leaning my back against the wall, I wonder if I should go in there. But I can't. Something holds me back. I pray for some sort of courage. It's too hard though. It would be useless. I'd go in there and then choke up.

My son must have just come in, for I hear soft murmurs from the downstairs. That doesn't make me move from the spot that I'm at. Actually, I walk into our room and sit on the bed, taking his shirt in my hands and bringing it to my nose.

Old Spice. I have to smile. I haven't done something like this since I was pregnant. The smell of his cologne would calm my nerves or stomach.

He walks out and stares oddly at me, sitting there, smelling his shirt. A small smile spreads across his face. Sitting next to me, he takes one of my hands and kisses my palm. I love it when he does that.

Then he stands and goes to his closet. Picking out khakis and a white shirt, he slowly puts them on as if in pain. Maybe he is. An invisible pain that hurts only on certain days.

I wish he would share these things with me. But I know that he can't. They're to personal to share with another person.

Standing, I walk to him and wrap my arms around his stomach. Resting my head on his back, I close my eyes and breathe in slowly. He smells soapy clean.

He turns then and kisses the top of my head. I look up into his eyes and give him a smile. Standing on tip-toes, I kiss his mouth, lingering there for a moment.

Resting his chin on my head lightly, closing his eyes.

I love this man, my husband. And I'll stand by him through thick and thin.

~*~*~*~

Well, what did you think? Did you like? Oh, please do tell. My muse would doubly appreciate it.

Dani Beth

 

 

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