Writing Practice

Propped up in bed, book in hand, she looked up as he walked into the room.   A cloud of steam followed him out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.  He padded barefoot across the space, moving his toothbrush rapidly over his teeth.  Reaching the closet, he stopped.  The toothbrush stuck out from his mouth as he used one hand to open the closet door and the other to toss his dirty laundry into the basket.

Moving towards the dresser, he absentmindedly resumed brushing his teeth.  She continued to watch him; although this was the same routine he followed every night, she rarely noticed, much less observed the pattern.  For some reason, tonight she found it fascinating.  With his free left hand, he pulled open a drawer and snagged a pair of boxers, his right continuing to move the brush in his mouth.  He paced back into the bathroom, never noticing that she was watching.

From her vantage point, she couldn’t see him even though he left the door open.  She heard him spit, water running, and the toothbrush clattering into the glass next to hers.  When he emerged he was still shirtless, but the boxers had replaced the towel.  As he flipped off the bathroom light, he met her gaze.  He realized she’d been watching and grinned at her.  When she grinned back, he crawled up towards her from the foot of the bed.  As he growled and leaped at her, she giggled, and her book was knocked to the floor.