“You know what? Fuck it! Fuck-it-all! Fuck! It!”
He slammed the door closed as he threw his heavy coat on a hanger. She was startled and almost spilled her coffee – which never seemed to be more than vaguely warm when the weather outside was this cold.
He never cursed – well, not as much as she did anyway. She was the one who would swear her lungs out and feel her face redden and her pulse quicken until the moment he’d come and hug her or laugh at her or stare at her or whatever he did that was more effective than a tranquilizing dart.
She pushed him into bed and took off his snow boots as he mumbled uninteligible words that she knew to be not polite at all. Then she crawled to his side and put his head on her lap.
His breath evened as she played with his hair and nodded in agreement with every string of curses he let out. There, there. She supposed she could return all the good he did her and spoil him a little bit… even if her coffee was now completely cold.
Reality 15: Seeking Solace