His pillow was gone.
My husband claimed he’d donated it by mistake, although we hadn’t donated anything in months.
For the past three weeks, he’d been slipping downstairs in the middle of the night and claiming the firmer mattress in our guest room helped his back.
At first, I believed him.
Greg was 56. After three decades together, I’d watched parts of both of us begin making noises they hadn’t made at 25.
For the past three weeks, he’d been slipping downstairs in the middle of the night.
But something about that night felt different.
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