“Sweetheart, won’t you help me with this?”
“What are the implications if I don’t?” he mumbled. He threw down his pen and stretched from where he had been hunched. He walked to the kitchen for a glass of water and looked out to where his wife was hanging up the laundry. He knocked on the window. She turned around and winked at him.
He opened the door. The cat sneaked up on him from behind. He wobbled as the cat ran underneath his feet.
“No!” he cried out. The cat launched himself into the air – landing smack in the middle of the wet laundry.
His wife picked the cat up and laughed, holding him up in the air.
Her smile faded. She put the cat down.
“Come here, Honey,” she whispered.
“What is it?” he asked.
She held her arm out and pulled him close.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the Cheshire moon. Next to it on each side was a bright star. Brighter than he had seen since they moved to the city.
He put his arms around her. The laundry remained basket untouched as they watched the stars.