Status: for maude!
Perfect
one
The sight of Pierre stumbling, his eyes dropping shut, the smell of alcohol escaping from his breath, was not something new to Maude. It had become increasing common, each night she would curl up on the couch that was situated in the living room near their front door and wait to hear the fumbling of keys, the stumble into the dim lighting, and the crooked smile that spread across his face but never reached his eyes.
She would walk over to him, take off his coat, hold him up while he slipped off his shoes, and walk him to their bed, laying him down while he planted kisses along her cheeks and neck.
“You’re the best,” he would say, his speech slurred and his voice loud, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
He would get up in the morning, sleep in his eyes and guilt on his face, and apologize for the words he couldn’t remember. She would smile, the sparkle missing from her eyes, and forgive him. He would watch her go through the motions of the day, the exhaustion that settled on her shoulders as she moved, the tiredness that was laced through her voice as she talked. The disappointment in her eyes pierced through him like a laser, and he knew he had to do something to fix it.
She would walk over to him, take off his coat, hold him up while he slipped off his shoes, and walk him to their bed, laying him down while he planted kisses along her cheeks and neck.
“You’re the best,” he would say, his speech slurred and his voice loud, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
He would get up in the morning, sleep in his eyes and guilt on his face, and apologize for the words he couldn’t remember. She would smile, the sparkle missing from her eyes, and forgive him. He would watch her go through the motions of the day, the exhaustion that settled on her shoulders as she moved, the tiredness that was laced through her voice as she talked. The disappointment in her eyes pierced through him like a laser, and he knew he had to do something to fix it.