A man and a woman lie in bed. Flat on their backs they lie, staring up above. Where there ought to have been pillow talk, or at least sweet nothings, there was instead quiet. That silence was illuminated by the milky grey-blue glow of the crisp moonlit sky as it negligently discharged through the panes of reinforced glass cross their footboard. Their shapes under the plaid blanket were still, almost like a snapshot but for their tired breathing. The woman lay bleary eyed with her pale hands lain limply along her side. And the man lay stiffly, hands folded over his chest, almost contemptuously albeit indirectly fixated on her peaking stress.
“Are we going to be okay?”
The sound of the man grinding his wisdom teeth could be heard quite clearly.
“Are we going to be okay?” She asked again.
The grinding intensified. One of these days he knew he’d…
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