James Black felt his alcohol breath finally dissipate after taking a shower, and as he lifted the quilt and lay down in bed, an unbidden thought crossed his mind.
If Jane Sampson were by his side, smelling the alcohol on him, she would probably scorn him for stinking.
She always claimed she wasn't squeamish, but sometimes, she was still his delicate little wife.
James checked the time on his mobile phone and, seeing it was very late, abandoned the idea of calling Jane Sampson.
After lying down, he didn't rush to sleep but instead leaned on the head of the bed, flipping through the photos in his phone album.
Sometime had started when his erstwhile perpetually empty phone album had begun to fill up entirely with her photos.
Sometimes Jane Sampson had that sort of wicked fun, taking selfies with her phone, capturing bizarre expressions, and secretly setting them as his phone background.
