He's leaning against the bookcase when she walks through the door. Seeing her hips sway reminds him of the last time they were in bed together. Her head turns to the side when he tries to kiss her. Car keys fly past his head as she kicks off her shoes. Helplessly he stares at her light blue bra. The way she had shoved her breasts in his face the day she bought it makes him uncomfortable now. Shower sounds break his reverie. Down in the basement he can’t remember how she folds towels. Eleven minutes pass before the running water stops. One towel winds around her body. The other coils around her hair. Back in her room fresh sheets hide beneath the bedcovers. A salad is waiting for her in the kitchen. Two lime wedges garnish the last Corona.
Hundreds of times he’s stood in the kitchen watching her make dressing. Today vinegar and oil stain her favorite sweatshirt. A wooden splinter sticks in her foot as she runs down the hall. Emotion tightens his chest when he finds her huddled under the covers. Wayward strands of hair decorate his pillow. Carefully he lies down next to her. Tentative hands move up and down her back. She’s crying now but if he pulls her closer she’ll get the wrong idea. Hours later they wake up. Her apology is whispered. Bare skin lies beneath her sweatshirt. His stomach muscles clench when he feels her breath. With a sigh he rolls over before pulling her next to him. The 'it's OK' feeling replaces frustrated sexual tension. Her hand wanders back to caress him again. Regretfully he shakes his head wondering if she feels loved.