doctor, doctor give me the news

I'll protect you, baby girl.

you notice you're low on your favorite soap one morning and you make a mental note to grab it later. true to form, you forget after a busy day that left little room for much else.

imagine your surprise when you step into the shower that evening and a fresh bottle is sitting right where you'd left the old one.

your wiper fluid light pops on in your car. annoying, but you can probably stop for some tomorrow, right?

it's gone the next day.

out of your favorite snack after a late night craving? two bags are sitting on the shelf before you can even get to your shopping list on the fridge.

your boss blows up at you for the third time this month. your fault? no, but you need the job, or so you keep telling yourself.

your texts are shorter. not on purpose; the screen is just too blurry, your thoughts too full.

he’s home early.

you know this because you’ve barely kicked off your shoes before he’s folding you into him, your cheek pressed against his chest.

it’s all it takes for you to crumble again.

“need me to take care of it?” by the tone underlying the softness, you know he means it.

you just snort into his shoulder, hot tears seeping into fabric.

it’s there you catch a glimpse of the flowers on the foyer table, a book you’d mentioned wanting to read the other day next to them.

because of course.

og rookieagle!

"Let's do this."