I really like this:
"I'm sorry. What can I do?"
She's quiet for several seconds before looking up at me. My heart almost stops when I see a tear rolling down her cheek.
"Oh, sweetheart.” I press my palm against the warm skin of her jaw and wipe the tear away with my thumb. “Is something else wrong? Please tell me.”
There is a lot of sweetness in that gesture, but I don't feel it cloying me. The entire story was a subtle exploration of intimacy, which I think is the magic of a long term relationship, after the fireworks and the butterflies there's--
The thu-thump, thu-thump of Lois's heartbeat echoes softly in my head. She’s home after all. I can’t believe I missed that when I came in.
(Because after a while you take it for granted that your loved one is simply
there. *sigh* You're secure in that.)
and
usually I find her watching the news, giving Dan Rather a piece of her mind, or dancing with a broom around the living room, her Police CD turned up so loud that passersby on the street are singing along.
(Because living with someone means knowing the quirks, the embarrassing details that most people don't see--Clark makes a lot out of her admission without realizing just how much more of Lois he sees already)
Remember the aphorism, 'God is in the details'? I think love might just be in the details too.
alcyone
PS So what's else is up your sleeve?
