Wake Up, For Us

~5~

As the next few years of your life pass, you notice those four fatal words more and more.

You push them aside, you ignore them and you make a life for yourself in the world.

You have a steady job, you enjoy it in the morning and by the afternoon you want nothing more than to return home, where your family and you will dine peacefully in your cosy townhouse. You married the love of your life at just twenty-five years old, and by thirty your family had grown to include an energetic puppy and two equally energetic children.

You open your front door after a long day at the office, you've seen those words three times today, no more or less than usual. Once in the paper over morning coffee, once at the traffic lights on the sign of a doomsayer, and once more on a memo left on your desk. These words have followed you through the years and like everything, you have simply grown to accept it.

You toe off your shoes, placing them neatly by the side of the hall, and walk into the living room.

The smell of your favourite meal greets you in a wafting hug as you approach the kitchen. You stand in the door way and see Sam.

You remember the date and smile, seven years now since the wedding, and counting.

You approach your love and wrap your arms around the apron-clad waist.

"Good evening to you too." You can feel the smile across that familiar face as you hum into the soft brown hair that smells faintly of vanilla, you are unsure if it is from cooking or soap.

"Are the little'uns at my mother's?"

"Just as we planned." A chuckling nod and a spin, and now you are face to face with your best friend of nearly three decades.

"It's just you, me, our favourite meal and a bottle of wine."

"Brilliant. Tonight, you're all mine."