Home-coming (humor)

He was asleep; she was sure of it. Creeping slowly along the hallway, she carefully avoided the creaky floorboard, third from the toilet door. Her fingers slid silently along the darkened wall, feeling for the landmarks that let her know where she was.

Just in time she remembered the broom; knocking it over would surely wake the dead.

Finally she found her door. Its stiff handle made no noise. Relieved, she slipped inside.

Undressing in the dark, she let her clothes slide to the floor; she was always the first up in the morning anyway.

Moving quietly, she felt for the bed-sheet layers, and slid thankfully between, exhausted. Sleep crept into her eyelids. Relaxed, she slowed her breathing, and began drifting off.

Just then, a movement beside her. His hand reached from the other side of the bed, touching her lightly on the shoulder, startling her desperately-needed sleep away.

‘A good night, love?’ he murmured.

‘Wonderful’ she replied, pleased and eager to share the event of her girls night out, now that she was fully awake again.

‘That’s nice’ he responded dreamily, and then he was gone, with a gentle snuffle that soon morphed into a jet-propelled snore.

Sighing, she left their bed; there’d be no sleep for a while now. Might as well have a cup of tea.

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