Home After Midnight

Tillie loves to read, and her shelves are overflowing with novels, memoirs, and poetry. She finds comfort and adventure between the pages of a good book. Damon, on the other hand, loves cards whether it’s playing Uno or poker night with friends. His appreciation for strategy and a little bit of luck define his playful side.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!" Tillie's voice carried through the screen door before she even opened it. He heard her kick off her shoes bright yellow Converse that somehow worked with her vintage floral dress, and they landed with twin thuds on the wraparound porch. Not on the boot rack. Never on the boot rack. The dogs started barking their two mutts, Biscuit and Gravy, probably hoping she'd brought them something from town.

"I know that look." Damon saved his work and finally glanced up as his wife came through the door, their orange tabby cat, Hank Williams, weaving between her legs. Even after thirteen years, the sight of her still did something to his chest. She was barely five feet of pure chaotic energy, all curves and wild dark curls that she'd given up trying to tame sometime around year three of their relationship. Her shoulder bore the faint scar from the car wreck five years ago she'd healed stronger than before, as she always did.

"That's your 'I had three margaritas and an epiphany' look."
"It was only two margaritas."