Imaginary sunday morning of big decisions

It was too early but the sunlight was already peeping through the tiny opening between the curtains, one particular sunbeam had tickled his nose and thus he found himself awake in his airy bedroom.

He always said they should get new curtains, ones that would actually close but according to his missus the curtains were a perfect fit: he just didn’t know how to draw them properly. Still she insisted he’d close them, even though she was often in bed before him. Women and their irrational ways.

He rolled onto his side and looked at her.  The domestic goddess in negligee. Irrational yet completely mesmerizing. Mesmerizingly beautiful. He suddenly felt an enormous surge of happiness rolling through his body.

It was too early. Resisting the urge to wake her, he folded his hands behind his head and looked at the patterns on the ceiling. His eyes followed the patterns and his thoughts started the drift.

He woke up again to a gentle kiss of his lover, already showered and dressed. It was her subtle way to spur him on. He smiled, tried to entice her to another kiss but she was already walking out of the room. His eyes followed her: she was enough encouragement to start the day.  Any day, not just the weekend.

He opened the curtains and looked out on the view and the statues in the garden, which from this angle seemed to be melting into each other. Perhaps he should do something with his happiness. These recession-laden days made the world a grey and somber place to be. The wars didn’t help; everyday it seems there was another soldier, another face or as some would see it, just another death in the papers. Yes, people seemed to have lost the sense of wonder and missed the beauty from simple things.

 These were trying times for everyone, all the spending cuts and extra taxes and slashing of budgets. He couldn’t really complain, but still he had worked for his wealth: it seemed unfair that the government felt entitled to their share. In time he had learned that throwing money at a situation wasn’t always going to solve a situation. If only the government would take his advice.

The calling of his name. Lord, her voice could make him melt – even at 8am on a Sunday. Time for breakfast. This was the life, maybe his brother was right, maybe it was time to retire. He turned and looked at the unmade bed. Suddenly he smiled. That was it.

He walked downstairs to the welcoming smell of fresh coffee, kissed his wife and told her the news.

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