She opened the door to the suburban house that she shared with her husband, her feet slowly shuffling through the threshold. Dropping the keys into the bowl on the small table beside the doorway, she unceremoniously kicked off her heels and threw her coat and purse onto the dining room table. Throwing open the fridge, she scanned her tired eyes through the shelves, searching for something to settle her, growling stomach. Not finding anything appetizing, she took out some yogurt and shut the refrigerator door before grabbing a spoon from the kitchen island drawer.
Then, just as she was about to devour her late-night treat, a noise stopped her from ripping off the plastic seal. Putting the spoon and yogurt down on the counter, she tip-toed her way toward the source of the sound. A male figure wearing a navy blue robe made his way down the stairs one step at a time. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized that the one who created the sound is none other than her husband. She then walked over to him, the two meeting at the bottom of the steps.
“Hey,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face. “Hey yourself,” her husband greeted softly. “When did you get in?” He inquired. “About ten minutes ago, I was going to make myself something to eat but couldn’t find anything.” Her husband gave her a look that most parents give their children when they forget to eat. She scoffed at his glance and said, “Don’t look at me like that! You know perfectly well that sometimes I get quite busy, so missing meals is not a rare occurrence.” The woman then crossed her arms across her chest, emphasizing her point.
Her husband resisted the urge to lecture his wife about the importance of eating three square meals a day given that they both have high-stress jobs. “Just don’t forget next time, alright?” He requested. The woman nodded and let out a heavy sigh. Concerned, her husband asked what was wrong. “It’s this case,” she began, looking into her husband’s chocolate brown eyes, her own azure blue orbs glistening with tears.
“I can’t fathom why anyone would think to harm innocent children. Though from an anthropological standpoint, some cultures often sacrifice young girls and boys to appease their gods.” Wordlessly, her husband wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She returned his embrace and put her face on his chest, a lone tear making its escape.
Minutes passed, and the couple still remained wrapped in each other. The woman then looked up at her husband and breathed out a single request, “Make me forget.” Getting the hint, her husband obliged by locking his lips with hers before taking her upstairs to their bedroom.