“On my way home,” she texts. “Love you!”
He smiles and stirs the soup. She’s been working too hard, frying chicken for others, and reading her textbooks between drive-through orders.
He offered to pick her up, but she declined. “Don’t be silly, the train is faster.”
“But it’s dark and there are weirdos.”
“You’re a weirdo.”
He gets her fluffy pajamas and puts them by the door. She likes to remove her grease-stained uniform as soon as she walks in.
Two hours later, the soup is a stew. He paces their little apartment.
“You’d better not be dead,” he texts.
He smiles and stirs the soup. She’s been working too hard, frying chicken for others, and reading her textbooks between drive-through orders.
He offered to pick her up, but she declined. “Don’t be silly, the train is faster.”
“But it’s dark and there are weirdos.”
“You’re a weirdo.”
He gets her fluffy pajamas and puts them by the door. She likes to remove her grease-stained uniform as soon as she walks in.
Two hours later, the soup is a stew. He paces their little apartment.
“You’d better not be dead,” he texts.
