The epitome of reassurance.  

The sun shining against my window awakens me.  I slowly open my eyes, then close them.  Open, then close.  I take a deep breath, smelling the fresh aroma of my cucumber and melon body lotion on my body.  I tilt my head to the side.  He’s still here.  I watch his chest fill up with air, then empty it.  In and out.

I slowly and gently get off the bed and step to the bathroom.  Nobody in public needs to know about this so I’ll keep this part to myself.  Just know that it’s quiet.

I step to the kitchen to make pancakes.  “Whatever you want, Sweetie,” I said to myself with a smile, and plopped a cupful of chocolate chips into the batter.  The absence of sizzle from beneath.  The liquid transforms into a solid and I stacked and stacked them on a platter.

“Morning, Sweetie,” I mouthed to my prince as he rolled in to the kitchen.

“Morning, Babe,” he said as he took his spot at the table and scratched his stomach.  Then he set up the table.

I turned off the stove and brought the platter and syrup.  We smiled at each other.  He rubbed my protruding belly.  “He or she is going to be out any day now,” I teased.

“Not knowing if I’ll be having a boy or girl is like having an itch I can’t scratch, Babe.”

“You should’ve taken the time to put on a condom like I told you.  You don’t listen to me, you don’t’ get to know.”

“I was on the hospital bed and was awake for an hour before you climbed on me! I could hardly breathe! Don’t blame this one me! Farting in the elevator, yes; condom on the hospital bed, no.”

“I was really excited,” she said, “I didn’t know whether you would wake up again,” and looked away.

“We’re going to be alright, Babe.  I promise.”

Daily Prompt: Epitome


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