Conrad Julius Ecklie (conrad_ecklie) wrote,
Conrad Julius Ecklie

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Theatrical Muse: Week 129: Question 129

Name: Conrad Ecklie

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Word Count: 602

When I awoke the next morning...

He awoke to the sound of her gentle, soft breathing. The first thing his eyes focused on was her head, full of dark brown curls, and her face, which had eyes that were still closed in sleep, their owner resting, perhaps dreaming of a far away land away from all the present troubles of the real world.

It should have been his day to go to work, but it wasn’t. That day, he didn’t have to go to work, because it was the first day of a two week honeymoon. The fourteen day long, illustrious, period of time where he got to better know his new wife and spend almost, if not, every, moment with her. It wasn’t her day to go to go to work either. They were both free from the restraints of the workforce for the time being.

He hadn’t been able to help it though. He’d awoken promptly at six in the morning, like he had for almost every single day of his life. And now, although it tugged at him, his will to keep a schedule, he didn’t want to stick to his daily plan, for the time being. The woman beside him, wearing the ring he had given her, and sleeping in his bed, with him, told him that, even though she was still asleep. He lay there, just lay there, enjoying the silence of the morning, and all the curious noises that lay within it. Birds chirping outside, people who actually had to go to a job on that day, some kid riding a bicycle on an early morning paper run before school or other activities, all mingled in with the general sounds that made up life as Las Vegas. Although he could feel time passing, being with her, watching her, hearing her, even smelling her and brushing a strand of hair away from her face, made it seem like time was standing still. Nothing else in the world mattered as long as they could have each other, as long as they were beside each other’s side.

Those moments, those moments stretched into minutes, were of a highly whimsical nature. He felt happy, and elated, he felt as if anything was possible, as if anything was within his grasp. He had spent his wedding night sleeping with the woman he truly loved, snuggled under the covers of the bed, holding her within his arms and her holding him in hers. It was one of the first time in his life that he remembered being truly happy. Life had lacked so much happiness after his parents had been killed.

It was beautiful, and, after a few minutes, which had actually been more close to a full hour, as her eyes flickered open and she smiled docilely at him with a wicked glint shining all over her face, he got up to make pancakes.

It had been years since his wife Michelle had been killed, even more since both of his parents had been so cruelly slaughtered. And now, he was middle aged, and the only relative he had left, his aunt, was dying slowly of old age. His parents, he had learned to cope without, and despite not loving them any less than her, it was different, because he hadn’t learnt to cope without Michelle by his side. Every day, he missed her warm, soft touch, and her dark brown curls and her melodious voice and the way she would always shout at him when they were working together even though she didn’t mean it, and probably, didn’t want to.

He missed life with his wife.

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