At the crack of dawn, the world still cloaked in a soft, dusky hue, I found myself stirring from slumber at the unholy hour of five. As my groggy eyes fluttered open, I beheld the ethereal sight of my beloved wife, a peaceful serenity adorning her features, resting beside me in blissful repose. The delicate tendrils of morning light, like a painter's brush, caressed her sleeping form, illuminating the tranquil scene.
Captivated by the captivating tableau before me, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of this intimate moment, a slice of time where dreams and reality coalesced. The soft rhythm of her breathing was a symphony of tranquility, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, a lullaby that soothed my soul.
As I lay there, entranced by the gentle dance of sunlight and shadow, I felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude for this cherished connection we shared. In the stillness of the morning, I vowed to cherish each waking moment with her, for within the embrace of her slumber, I found solace and the assurance that in this tumultuous world, we would face every challenge together. And so, as the world stirred awake, I remained in silent contemplation, grateful for the gift of a new day alongside my sleeping muse.
YOU ARE READING
The Middle Man
Historical FictionA politician who's trying to reach the top and will do whatever it takes to get there.
