The Phantom of the I-5

Soft sounds of sleep filled the room as my wife slept. Her soft strawberry blonde hair fanned across the pillow as she slept with her back to me. My hand, of its own mind, reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear. She shifted slightly, but remained asleep, her soft features childlike as she did. My back rested against the hard wood of the head board, the one my wife, Praise, expertly picked out.

Funny enough, that’s how I met Praise. She was designing a house for my, then, fiancée. Her hair is what caught my attention first. When she turned to double check my opinion of the furniture, the smile she wore knocked me backwards. The process took me out of my blinded bubble and into the real world. I ended up closing the engagement with my, again, then, fiancée.
It almost seemed as if Praise knew that she had knocked some sense into me. She approached me months later, asking me to a movie.

Of course, I said yes, and of course she had it already planned and coordinated. So I met her at the time and place specified.

I looked over at her sleeping frame and smiled at the memory. She had surprised me that day. Instead of a movie she had planned an all-nighter at Disneyland. Supposedly she had designed one of the staff rooms and had special access to the park because of it.

A chuckled echoed in the quiet room and my eyes went wide until I realized the noise had been mine. Leaning over carefully I kissed her cheek and slid out of the bed. I quickly stole a glance at the clock and inwardly groaned at the time. Four thirty, wonderful. A brilliant time in the morning, I should still be sleeping. No thanks to my job that is.

I smiled again, I loved my job, but it was starting to drag on. My socked feet glided over the carpet quietly towards the door.

Quickly looking back at my sleeping wife I slipped silently into the large room, closing the door behind me. My feet dragged tiredly as I made my way over to my mirror. My blue eyes made contact with the figure in the mirror, inspecting the slight worry lines around my eyes and on my forehead. At least my black hair was still thick, and nearly shoulders length, my hand ran through it just to make sure it was still there.

A slight smirk appeared on my face, yes it was still there. My father had me terrified. He said once I hit middle age that all my hair would fall out. I looked again at the mirror, nope. It’s still there.

I sighed as I started my routine. I pulled out my uniform out of the closet, which my wife so gladly had pressed for me, and laid it on the counter carefully. Quickly hoping in the shower and climbing out. I had this routine down to a tee. The whole process only took me about twelve minutes.

I slid into my uniform quickly and walked back to the door. I killed the light so I could leave the room without waking Praise. But as soon as I opened the door, she was already sitting up in the bed.

A small smile crept onto my face, she does this everyday. I close the bathroom door behind me and walk over to her, planting a small kiss on her delicate mouth.

“I’ll be home later,” I whispered and kissed her forehead, “I love you.” With that I turned and walked out of the bedroom heading down to the front door.

As I reached for my boots a frown formed. A loud whisper whistled past the door. Hurriedly I pulled on my boots and my gun-belt, which had been hanging by the frame, and ran out the door.

My eyes carefully examined the grounds and the road in front of my house. There was nothing. My eyebrows met in frustration and confusion as I climbed into the patrol car. Before starting the engine I looked up at the house, smiling. The little place had a quaint touch to it. A light faded blue color with the porch that wrapped around. It needed a new paint job, and Praise won’t let me forget it. I chuckled to myself and the engine roared to life.

Carefully I pulled out of the driveway and sped off to work.