Today's writing

He still worked at PharmaCorp where they had met all those years ago. Still in Quality Assurance, still signing documentation, still kind-of wishing he could use his graduate degree in statistics but mostly just glad he worked only a brief bike ride from home. Laid back, was Gary. Everyone said so. Everyone liked him. Few people knew him. He was quick to talk, reluctant to reveal. She was the oversharer of the couple and sometimes she found herself babbling at parties, going off in an embarrassing manner, catching her conversation partner’s glance and realizing she was saying too much, too quickly, with too much sweat beading her brow. She always vowed she wasn’t going to do it again, a promise that lasted as long as the next time took to arrive.

Lennon settled on the couch, butt up in the air, and passed back out. “Relax,” Gary said when Ruth sighed. “It’s not like you don’t have, I don’t know, an hour.”

Is there anything less relaxing than being told to relax? Some things you cannot command, and relaxation sits atop that list. It either exists or it does not. And so Ruth crossed her legs underneath herself, chewed on her bottom lip, and took a moment to wish hateful shit on her husband.