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She lies there, sleeping peacefully. I wonder if she is still feeling sick, because when I last saw her, she was suffering terribly from an agonizing headache. It’s six in the morning, and I am quietly slipping out of bed to get ready for work. Ah, the joys of directing films on my off days from my regular job. After my shower, I quietly look in on her from the bathroom. The light gently illuminates her face, which looks like the headache has gone away in the night.

I quietly slip myself back onto the bed, and lean over her. I don’t want to wake her, in case her headache isn’t gone, but I also don’t want to leave without kissing her goodbye. It’s not often I am able to when my work usually has me in another city or country for days at a time. I lean in, and kiss her cheek. She quietly rouses, and turns her face to mine.

“How do you feel, baby?”
“Much better than last night, I can honestly say.”
“Is your headache still there?”
“Yeah, but not as intense. Are you off to work?”
“I am. I have to be there by 6:45, so I am heading out in a minute.”
“Why didn’t you wake me earlier? I could have made you some breakfast or coffee.”
“You have a headache. I order you to stay in bed, sweetheart.” She groans in protest, but I am serious. “I have given you another day off from acting in my little movie, so you can get better.”
“Colin, you cannot do that. People are going to see it as favoritism, and hate me because of it.”
“Amy, if anyone judges you, I will personally annihilate them. You’re sick in bed, and that is that. Rest up, watch lots of crap television and movies, and I will be home tonight.”

With that, I kiss her softly, and go to work.

When I come home, the house is silent. I quietly go to the bedroom and find her asleep. The shades in the room are drawn, and her body is laid in such a way so the remaining light in the room is shielded from her eyes. She has her Scottish Moors CD quietly playing in the background, and the dog is sleeping at her feet. I can’t help but look at her as she sleeps. This headache must be a doozy, because her face is twisted in anguish. I wish I could help her, but she will soon be feeling much better.

I decide dinner can wait an hour or so, and I climb into bed. I gingerly wrap my arms around her, and press my chin into her back, kissing her hair. She moans softly, and snuggles in closer to me.

Okay, so I wrote this in the moment. It might not make any sense, it may be horrible, but I went with the flow. This has been a thought in my head for days, while I suffering from the mother of all migraines for several days straight. How I come up with inspiration while ridiculously nauseous from a headache is amazing to me, but there you have it.


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