The bed was empty when she woke up. She reached for him and found only the turned down comforter. She slipped out of bed and into his Pendleton robe and went looking for him. He was sitting on the porch steps, fully dressed. A steaming cup of coffee was on the boards next to him and the calico cat was sitting, staring, at the coffee cup. They had been married seven years. Each day, every day they moved in the soft currents of their love. Today was no exception, even with the bittersweet shadow cast over the day. She padded softly across the cool porch her bare feet a scant whisper. She knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. The cat stood up and rubbed against her, through the thick warmth of the robe. He reached up and laid his hand on her encircling arm, touching her, caressing her, feeling the warmth of her. She whispered in his ear. "She loved you."
(This was my entry over at the One Minute Writer for Friday Fiction, hope you enjoy.)
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