Her husband, on the other hand, was less excited and hoped that she had changed her mind overnight.
Yet, he knew, as fickle as she was, that she was set.
He scrounged around in the closet for a pair of socks. Hangers jangled against each other as he maneuvered his wide shoulders through the small space. Clothes swished back and forth and the rod creaked. He settled for two singles, one blue and one black.
He didn’t complain, he was glad to have socks. A quick sniff, clean socks, even better.
A pair of dark eyes watched as he emerged, switching the light off behind him with the socks flopped over his hand.
“You give up the fight in there?”
“There never was a fight. It just is what it is,” he replied with a shrug.
And so it goes…