As he walked through the door, she asked herself why she had stayed up for him again. It happened too often and it was making her tired and irritable in the mornings.
Yet she continued to do so, though she did not quite know why. Perhaps part due to worrying, the mothering side of her that still remained despite her children growing up.
But as the scent of alcohol crept into the room as he entered, she wrinkled her nose and sighed. That smell meant another spat would be incoming. Either she would start it by criticizing, or he would because the drink made him irritable. She was just grateful that the smell of sex wasn't on him or that he had a bar wench on his arm.
Yet she continued to do so, though she did not quite know why. Perhaps part due to worrying, the mothering side of her that still remained despite her children growing up.
But as the scent of alcohol crept into the room as he entered, she wrinkled her nose and sighed. That smell meant another spat would be incoming. Either she would start it by criticizing, or he would because the drink made him irritable. She was just grateful that the smell of sex wasn't on him or that he had a bar wench on his arm.