Sunday Scribblings make-up Post-Prompt "Good"
Good
When he comes home, I'm sunken into the couch, wrapped up in a throw, watching “The Simpsons” with the dogs.
“Uh-oh,” he says, “what happened?”
I look up at him and shake my head. He sits down beside me, but he's smart enough not to go straight for the hug first thing.
“Family thing?”
I shake my head.
“Did they cancel one of your favorite shows?”
I shake my head again.
“Did I do something?”
I give him a heavy sigh through my nose and shake my head.
“Dogs?”
I shake my head again.
“Writing?”
Another oh-so eloquent head shake.
“Did you fall?”
That gets him a scowl. I'm not sure if it's because he knows me well enough to know that I've done something clumsy, or if it's just because my ankle still hurts. I fell hard enough that there's a bruise on my knee and another one rising on my elbow.
“Can I see it?”
I lift up the blanket to reveal that I'm wearing the elastic brace I have for this very purpose and I've got one of the throw pillows under it so it's propped up. He doesn't say anything else, just goes into the kitchen. When he comes back, he's got a glass of iced tea and an ice pack for me. Without a word, he carefully drapes the ice bag over my foot and hands me the tea. I smile my thanks at him and he settles onto the couch, a little closer this time, and puts an arm around my shoulders. It helps, and I start to feel good.
When he comes home, I'm sunken into the couch, wrapped up in a throw, watching “The Simpsons” with the dogs.
“Uh-oh,” he says, “what happened?”
I look up at him and shake my head. He sits down beside me, but he's smart enough not to go straight for the hug first thing.
“Family thing?”
I shake my head.
“Did they cancel one of your favorite shows?”
I shake my head again.
“Did I do something?”
I give him a heavy sigh through my nose and shake my head.
“Dogs?”
I shake my head again.
“Writing?”
Another oh-so eloquent head shake.
“Did you fall?”
That gets him a scowl. I'm not sure if it's because he knows me well enough to know that I've done something clumsy, or if it's just because my ankle still hurts. I fell hard enough that there's a bruise on my knee and another one rising on my elbow.
“Can I see it?”
I lift up the blanket to reveal that I'm wearing the elastic brace I have for this very purpose and I've got one of the throw pillows under it so it's propped up. He doesn't say anything else, just goes into the kitchen. When he comes back, he's got a glass of iced tea and an ice pack for me. Without a word, he carefully drapes the ice bag over my foot and hands me the tea. I smile my thanks at him and he settles onto the couch, a little closer this time, and puts an arm around my shoulders. It helps, and I start to feel good.