When She’s Away [100 Word Story]

Photo by Arthur Savary on Unsplash

I can never sleep when she’s away. Tossing, the bed feels so vast. Turning, the house swells with needless space.

‘I can take care of myself just fine when I’m away.’

I know. Of course she can.

So many sounds to discern.

Cars rumble by.

I wake.

Headlights cross the ceiling, down the wall, into the closet, onto her pillow.

Not her. Not yet.

I smell her in the sheets. Fall back asleep.

Car door!

Garage?

Keys on the kitchen counter?

She makes it quiet when she’s here.

‘Just a few days, love.’

Soon.

Still, so hard not to listen.