Lines on the Page

LINES ON THE PAGE

Groan.

I open my eyes and blink. It doesn’t even feel like I’ve slept.

Light filters around the blackout shade. It must be close to six-thirty.

Another groan. I don’t set an alarm anymore, unless one of us has to be at an appointment.

But I smell the coffee, and the anticipation of that lifts me off the bed.

Later, I’m at the computer. Coffee—check. Bed made— check. (Just to be honest,…