The house was dark and still when Jack returned.
After taking a hot shower and drinking one small glass of vintage port he walked to the bedroom and opened the door. His wife, Charlotte, was already sleeping on the bed. A lamp in the corner with a blue light bulb was the only source of light within the room. It painted everything with a soft cerulean tint.
Jack undressed and slipped under the covers next to her. She murmured something that was barely above a whisper, incoherent, subconsciously responding to his presence. He snuggled up next to her and, in the process, had accidentally awakened her.
“Mmmmm? Hey, when did you get back?” Charlotte said. Her voice was still drunk with dreams.
“Just a little while ago. Long night, I’m exhausted.” He said.
He pulled the covers up to his chin and snuggled up against her warm body. Her skin was as soft as the petals from a flower.
The winter wind was howling on the other side of the window.
Jack closed his eyes and allowed the stress of the evening to melt away. He quickly drifted off into deep slumber.
[Original writing & photography by J. E. Lattimer]
© 2012, 2013 J. E. Lattimer all rights reserved