It’s dark now. Not that it matters, they sleep way before the green flash of light appears as the sun sets. They like to tuck away before the darkness envelops the sky; leaving a black sheet where lush green grass peeked through. It’s always quiet here. Cricket songs hang in the night air, and only the occasional whoosh of passing cars remind them they live in the city.
After 65 years of marriage, they sleep separately. The rooms stand across each other, adjacent bathrooms beside them and only the small hallway in between.
“It’s hard” she says, “because I’m so used to having him next to me.”
He comforts her, laying his hands atop hers, gently stroking her long fingers. She knew the feeling all too well. In 65 years, he was the only one who could calm her worries with just a touch.
“It’s necessary,” he explained, reaching over to kiss her forehead.
“She’s such a light sleeper, my snoring and constantly getting up to use the bathroom always wakes her.” He sighed when he said this.
“Your snoring is my favorite song.” she said smiling at him. He let out a chuckle, grateful and surprised at her words of affection. They exchanged loving glances, a secret language they created and cultivated together.
“I love you” he mouthed, as they stood together in the hallway.
“till sideways eight babe” she replied giving him a peck on the cheek.
They retired to their rooms separate,
Momentarily apart,
But together in love
And forever in heart.
