Oh, the joys of curiosity!
It all started with an innocent tiptoe and
a heart pounding like a drum solo from a 70s rock band
. I slid into the house unnoticed,
hearing those classic hushed tones coming from the living room.
Intrigue and dread mingled,
driving me to channel my inner sleuth.
What I saw nearly stopped my heart in its tracks:
my husband, slouched miserably on the couch
, his face buried in his hands like
he was auditioning for a melodramatic soap opera.
Trying to ease my way into whatever drama was unfolding,
I squeaked out
, “What’s wrong?”
If there were awards for shocked faces,
my husband and his parents would have been frontrunners
. Their heads whipped up with the speed of startled owls.
His eyes, red and tear-stricken, met mine.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart,”
he mumbled, in the least convincing tone ever.
