Every morning the red rose of last night turned grey. Just like any other day, this morning I waited for the curtains to catch some tinge of brightness then stepped on the cold marble floor. Just as I approached the curtains to peek through them at the grey painted lawn, Ray, my husband came in with morning tea. Ugh! Now he will insist on rushing things up! You can never give him enough excuses to steal five lazy minutes from his strict schedule. He will insist that you get ready for work half an hour early so that you don't need to rush on your way. Then he will spend the time by repeating the same instructions every day before leaving home, "there is no reason for you to cross the road from the random places! Zebra crossings are painted in black and white." Although we leave for the work together and cross a considerable part of our way to work together, he will always stop at the doorstep to remind me that if the signal lights seem the same I can tell if it...
A writer's whimsy, on display for her readers