The Final Curtain
“She could hear the rain even as she lay in bed. Thundering down on the roof, splashing from the gutters, pouring into the drains. And she knew that Matthew could hear it too. But, wisely, he knew better than to draw attention to it. He knew that any comment he made on this sad weather would be read by her as an attempt to put her off her bike ride. She lay still, warm, dry and content, snuggling under the duvet and coiling her legs around her husband, feeling the musculature of his torso, which... made her just a little bit frisky. She felt his chest move up and down, his arm tighten around her, and drew in a deep breath. So why leave this and go out there, just to get drenched and freezing and make a point? She closed her eyes and breathed in the bedroom air with its whisper of chill through the crack of the open window; neither of them could sleep with the window tight shut. She lay still and reflected. Why did she have to do this, create difficulties? She knew better than most that it is practically impossible to keep your hands and feet warm on a blustery, soaking bike ride.MoreLess
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